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3 - Chapter One
The Animal Activist's Handbook: Maximizing Our Positive Impact in Today's World
Matt Ball, Bruce Friedrich, Foreword by Ingrid Newkirk
Choosing Meaningful Action
Is there a reason to care about how we live?
In his book How Are We To Live?, Peter Singer describes how the collapse of religious traditions has left a void in many people's lives: "When Sartre realized that life has no meaning, it was a shocking contention. Now, it is simply the normal understanding." Most Americans wouldn't agree that life has no meaning, and the vast majority claim to believe in God and a higher purpose. Observing actual behavior, however, one wonders whether people are living lives that can be reconciled with their belief in meaning.
More than fifty years ago, Catholic Worker movement founder Dorothy Day argued that we show our faith in a deeper meaning by living our lives in a way that speaks to our values. Like Gandhi and many other great spiritual teachers from a variety of faiths, she believed that our actions indicate both our values and whether we actually believe in a higher meaning.
It seems to us that "getting ahead"—accumulating material wealth and possessions for oneself and/or one's family—has become many people's de facto meaning of life, regardless of what they say they believe. For many others, life appears to be only about getting to the finish line, about filling up time with television, sports, and whatever else. For many (if not most) people, life has become a race to acquire more stuff and a fight against boredom.
But are those who live for possessions or simply to pass time really happy? Is this the best way to live? And more critically, how should we evaluate our lives? We hope you'll agree that answers to these questions are important enough to pursue with honesty and humility. Our struggle with these questions is the starting point of this book.
Evolution and Insatiability
The first step in our quest for a meaningful life is to break down assumptions and dig to the roots of our motivation. i.e., why do we make the choices we do? Sometimes our choices seem to be consciously considered; we might even make lists, "pro" on one side and "con" on the other. But there's always more going on—there are aspects of our nature as human beings that point us in one direction or another. With a general understanding of our evolutionary baggage, we can better understand why we often find ourselves pursuing material goods and simply passing time. From there, we may be able to make some rational assessments of whether these pursuits truly are the path to happiness.
Simply put, it's human nature to desire more, to strive for a greater share, regardless of what we already have. Over the millennia, those who were satisfied with what they had were erased from the gene pool by our unfulfilled ancestors. Individuals who pursued and obtained the most (e.g., food, partners, children, and other signs of "wealth") were the ones who prospered. The connection between "having" and the continuation of one's genes wasn't conscious, but was manifested in the individual's drives and desires for more, a discontent with the status quo, and envy of those with more. As Robert Wright summarizes in The Moral Animal, "People weren't, of course, designed to be relentlessly happy in the ancestral environment; there, as here, anxiety was a chronic motivator, and happiness was the always pursued, often receding, goal."
These innate desires, built into our genes over the course of many millions of years, haven't disappeared; they remain a part of the human genetic makeup. Sadly, there really is no such thing as "enough," since our bodies are programmed with a view toward possible, unpredictable scarcity. Much of humanity has reached a point that our genetic programming could not have predicted—we can be reasonably sure we will survive and provide for future generations.
The fact that human programming to acquire doesn't have an "off" switch can be verified by even a cursory look at the world's millionaires and billionaires. In fact, it would appear that nothing satiates the drive for accumulating—there's always more to have, and there are always those who are better off with whom we feel we must compete. If you're Donald Trump, you can simply compete with yourself to acquire even more. Evolution has left us with a nature that pursues without end.
Americans are now about twice as rich as we were in the 1970s, and the Japanese are about six times richer than they were in the 1950s, but neither population is happier now, according to scientific studies (see, for example, imomus.livejournal.com/175376.html). Similarly, even lottery winners revert to their former baseline of happiness (Gilbert, 2007; Haidt, 2006). The phrase isn't "the pursuit of happiness" for nothing! Ultimately, the perhaps counterintuitive (and hard to accept) fact is that happiness simply isn't to be found in possessions or wealth.
Once we recognize our ancient, innate drives, we can more clearly and logically pursue what's really important—what it can and should mean to be human. Rational analysis reveals the pitfalls of our evolutionary heritage and can free us from desires that prevent us from achieving sustainable peace and happiness—drives that leave us striving toward, but never achieving, lasting happiness.
As rational beings, we can make decisions about how to live our lives based on logical and consistent derivations from first principles—concepts that we rationally agree are important, defensible, and fundamental, rather than evolutionary baggage, inherent prejudices, or current societal norms. In other words, we can choose to author our life's story, rather than following the narrative set by our genes.
The Meaning of Life: Working Toward Positive Consequences It is easy for us to criticize the prejudices of our grandfathers, from which our fathers freed themselves. It is more difficult to distance ourselves from our own views, so that we can dispassionately search for prejudices among the beliefs and values we hold.—Peter Singer, Practical Ethics (1993)
Throughout history, many have claimed to know the meaning of life. They set forth their particular philosophy, rules, and dogma. Looking at options today, we find dozens of competing approaches from philosophers, preachers, psychologists, etc., each convinced that theirs is the right way.
If we are to make rational choices as the basis of our life, we not only have to understand our genetic heritage, but we also have to recognize our cultural programming. If we want to be free of encumbrances that keep us from true fulfillment, it's important that we seek to understand what is fundamental, rather than accepting the dogma du jour, the beliefs of our parents, the preaching at the local church, the current social views, the most recent best-seller. Just as reason shows us the biological baggage accumulated over evolutionary timescales, reason also shows our cultural encumbrances.
Reason allows us to rise above all of this by showing us a larger perspective, revealing a "rule of the universe," where no one's interests count for more than anyone else's. Putting aside inherent prejudices leads to equal consideration of interests. Interestingly, this is summarized by "The Golden Rule," which can be seen as a core tenet of many ethical and religious traditions. "Love your neighbor as yourself," said Jesus. "What is hateful to you do not do to your neighbor," said Rabbi Hillel, the great Jewish teacher from just before Jesus' time. Confucius summed up his teaching in similar terms: "What you do not want done to yourself, do not do to others." The Mahabharata, the great Hindu epic, says: "Let no person do to another that which would be repugnant to her/himself."
Over the course of history, through endless human explanations, proclamations, and interpretations, many ethical systems have lost whatever connection they once had to fundamental principles like the Golden Rule. Most ethical systems have become a list of dos and (more often) don'ts. Those that have thrived have often come with large helpings of protection for the powerful and the status quo. It is an abdication of our rationality and humanity to accept the rules and laws of our day and our society as settled truths. We rightfully shudder at past persecutions of people like Galileo, Susan B. Anthony, Frederick Douglass, and Martin Luther King, Jr., all of whom questioned the dogma of the day. It would be naïve to think that today's society has all the right answers.
Where are we led when we pursue an objective perspective? Honestly and thoroughly considering a universal view shows that, if you dig far enough, virtually all actions can be traced to a desire for fulfillment or happiness and a need to avoid or alleviate suffering. In other words, when push comes to shove, thousands of years of philosophy can be summarized in nineteen words: Something is "good" if it leads to more happiness, and something is "bad" if it leads to more suffering. This is simplistic, of course. Not every situation lends itself to a clear analysis of consequences. Some things may seem intuitively "right" and actually be "right," even if the immediate consequences aren't obviously better than the consequences of different actions. Yet, despite the fact that some situations are difficult to analyze thoroughly, in general, focusing on the consequences of the actions is the most consistent way to maximize good outcomes.
Similarly, some things simply seem wrong, regardless of any consequential analysis. People come up with examples that seem to defy simple utilitarian analysis as well. But if we are to make rational, defensible decisions that are free of biases, utilitarianism offers a useful, straightforward, objective perspective that can help us avoid being distracted by personal or societal prejudices.
Given that pain—physical, emotional, or psychological—is generally the single greatest barrier to happiness, alleviating pain and suffering is a reasonable first priority for people who want to devote themselves to making the world a kinder place. We are in no way discounting the value of pleasure, but in the end we agree with Richard Ryder, who states in Painism: A Modern Morality, "At its extreme, pain is more powerful than pleasure can ever be. Pain overrules pleasure within the individual far more effectively than pleasure can dominate pain." In short, an objective ethics argues that we should make decisions based on what leads to the least amount of suffering.
Once we recognize that suffering is fundamentally bad, and thus eliminating suffering is the ultimate good, we can each dedicate our life to reducing as much suffering as possible. From these primary principles, we can give up the futile pursuit of happiness, and, instead live our lives beyond ourselves, for what is truly important. We can transcend our genetic and cultural programming and experience the full potential of our humanity and the richness possible in our existence. From a rational, universal starting point, we can choose to author our life's story, rather than following the narrative set for us by our genes and our culture. We can rise above the self-centered and immediate. We can be a part of something greater.
Striving for Morality: Our Influence More than Our ActionsThe most important human endeavor is the striving for morality in our actions. Our inner balance and even our very existence depends on it. Only morality in our actions can give beauty and dignity to our lives.—Albert Einstein, letter dated 1950, quoted in Howard Eves' Mathematical Circles Adieu, 1977 It's logical that a fundamental ethic involves the reduction of suffering, but often ethics aren't thought of in practical, applied, consequential terms. Rather, "ethics" are thought of only as rules and regulations. It's because of human weakness and prejudice that so much philosophy and religion have become associated with commands and dictates. If we want to be free to live fully, to write our own narrative, we can reject the norms of today and the prejudices of our biology and recognize the fundamental wrong of suffering in the world. We don't need some formal structure to tell us right from wrong; we don't need a priest, rabbi, imam, or philosophy professor to tell us that it's bad to let someone starve to death, that genocide is wrong, that it's a tragedy when children are orphaned by AIDS.
More importantly, however, a complete ethic isn't just about minimizing the bad impact we have in the world. The needed change isn't simply personal. Although our decisions regarding what to eat and wear, what kind of car to drive, or for whom we should cast our vote are important, they're not as important as our influence on others. That is our real impact on the world.
Think of it this way: If we buy only vegan food, or we vote for the candidate of our choice, or we buy only coffee, clothing, etc, that's been produced fairly and responsibly, that's one unit of goodness in that area. If, however, we advocate for our position, each person we influence to do the same thing will double the good that our choices cause! Once we have ten people on board, our impact on the world is ten times greater than the choices that we, personally, have made or that we will ever make! In just one day, with just one interaction, we can do as much good for the world with our influence as we can do with our personal decisions and choices over the course of our entire lives.
To make the world better, we can—must—do much more than just make good, ethical choices ourselves. We can expose injustice, solicit kindness from others, and work for widespread change and the adoption of moral policies. Every person we meet is a potential major victory. Our power to change the world is much more than we imagine; our potential is mind-blowing!
We have no excuse for waiting. Living ethically—pursuing meaningful action toward a better world by alleviating and preventing suffering—doesn't require any consensus. If we were the one suffering—imprisoned unjustly, enslaved with no rights, exploited because of our race or species—we wouldn't want concerned, thoughtful people to put off taking action until the next election or until a large group endorsed our cause. We don't have to change the government to change the world. We don't have to start a group or organize a campaign. We can each act today and every day.
How Will We Focus Our Energy?
If we agree that the meaning of life is to make the world a better place by exposing and eliminating as much suffering as possible, then the most critical question of our lives is this: How do we do the most possible good in a world where suffering is so widespread?
Again, a basic understanding of human nature can show us potential prejudices and blind spots that might impede us from being optimally effective. Each of us has a bias of concern toward self-interest, the known, and the immediate. This applies to activists just as much as to the general population. Most people working for a better world concentrate on others who are most like them or who are closest to them, geographically and/or biologically. It's almost too obvious to warrant mention, but most people working on gay rights issues are gay, on women's rights issues are women, on civil rights are African-American, on anti-Semitism are Jewish; etc.
These causes are important, but they're also issues of self-interest for many. Even with causes such as child abuse, cancer, domestic violence, and so on, leaders are often individuals with personal experience (e.g., when celebrities experience a disease, either personally or through a loved one, they often become spokespeople). Charities working within the U.S. get much more funding than those who do work overseas. Work on behalf of exploited or suffering human beings receives exponentially more funding and attention than work on behalf of non-human animals, and demonstrations for human rights attract more people and more moral outrage than demonstrations on behalf of animals.
Some people point to dogs and cats as an exception. In 2007, when investigators pulled sixty abused animals, dozens of animals' corpses, and truckloads of dog fighting paraphernalia from Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick's property, there were loud and vigorous demonstrations denouncing his cruelty to animals. At the same time, though, there were demonstrations supporting Vick, both on the field and in the community. Many commentators argued that the issue was not worthy of the concern and attention it was getting; others argued he shouldn't be suspended from playing football. Obviously, no one would have been pro-Vick if dead and battered human beings had been found on his property, or if the rape racks had been for humans, rather than dogs. Of course, the numbers protesting his actions were still a tiny fraction of the numbers that turn out for an anti-abortion or anti-war rally.
Some have expressed surprise or even envy at PETA's multi-million dollar annual budget. This, too, shows the degree of our species bias—if we're surprised an animal protection organization could take in such a "lofty" sum. Think about it: The largest animal rights organization in the world has a budget of some tens of millions of dollars per year to work against all of the combined injustices against the more than ten billion land animals who are killed annually in the United States. Planned Parenthood took in thirty times for work on women's health; Catholic Charities took well over a hundred times more to work on poverty issues. One human disease—cancer—gets thousands and thousands of times more money devoted to it than is contributed to every single issue related to animal rights. (For a ranking from 2001, see csmonitor.com/2001/1126/csmimg/charitychart.pdf; see GuideStar.org for current budgets of other non-profit organizations.) Indeed, our entire government is focused on human needs, and spends billions each year subsidizing animal agriculture (see ucsusa.org/news/press_release/cafo-costs-report-0113.html).
Guiding Principles
An understanding of human nature, along with the recognition of the primacy of suffering, leads to two guiding principles that we've found useful in freeing our advocacy from prejudice:
First, to maximize the amount of good we can accomplish, we should strive to set aside personal biases as much as possible. We should challenge ourselves to approach advocacy through a straightforward analysis of the world as it is, motivated solely by a desire to alleviate suffering to the greatest extent possible. If the amount of suffering in the world weren't so vast, other considerations would be warranted (e.g., maximizing pleasure). But as long as so many are suffering so horribly, eliminating as much suffering as possible must be our primary motivating factor.
Second, it's vital we recognize that we all have limited resources and time. It's a simple fact that when we choose to do one thing, we're choosing not to do another—there's no way around it. Instead of choosing to "do something, do anything," we must challenge ourselves to pursue actions that will likely lead to the greatest reduction in suffering. There are a myriad of worthy pursuits, and of course we appreciate anyone working to make the world a kinder place. However, given the above principles, we challenge everyone—including ourselves—to constantly strive to maximize the efficacy of our actions.
Striking at the RootThere are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root.—Henry David Thoreau, Walden Perhaps you've heard the story of the person who finds babies floating down the river a few times per day, day after day after day—saving some, missing most of them. Every day, she waits by the river, knowing there'll be babies to save. Sure enough, every day she pulls some of the drowning babies out of the river, and she feels good about her efforts—saving lives, every day—even as she mourns the many who drown. Finally, one day she thinks, "Who on earth keeps tossing these babies into the river?"
She walks upstream, finds the person doing it, and stops him. In that moment, she's saved all of the babies who would have been tossed into the river in the future, and becomes free to dedicate herself to something else that would be helpful in the world. There's much triage work to be done in our society—there are many drowning babies, as it were. And obviously the work of saving them is good. But we're convinced that if we can stop people from tossing babies into the water in the first place, we'll be more effective.
In concrete terms, we choose not to focus our incredibly limited time and resources on individual animals, however valuable and rewarding that work is. Rather, we seek to challenge the very structures of oppression against animals, and to work to dismantle the system that says animals are commodities we can eat. To do this as effectively as possible, we must set priorities and, given our limited resources, make some difficult, rational choices.
Setting Priorities
Peter Singer asks us in "The Singer Solution to World Poverty" (utilitarian.net/singer/by/19990905.htm) to consider the case of a man who just bought a new car. He paid $50,000 for the car and doesn't have it insured yet. His car stalls on a set of railroad tracks, and, before he can push the car off, he sees a small girl also on the tracks, oblivious to an on-coming train. He has to choose between moving his car or saving the girl. Obviously, if he chose the car, all of us would hold him in moral contempt. Singer asks: What is the real difference between this scenario and buying the car in the first place, when you could buy a perfectly acceptable car for $20,000 or less, leaving $30,000 to dedicate to poverty relief, which would save far more than one child.
Similarly, consider the example of someone who has just bought an extra pair of two-hundred-dollar shoes. She sees a child drowning in the river. If the person chooses not to jump in for fear of destroying her shoes, again, all of us would find her morally reprehensible. Yet the same moral conclusion can be drawn when it comes to buying a pair of expensive shoes that aren't needed in the first place, rather than giving the money to charity.
When applying this to animals, the comparison becomes even more stark, since, for just a few coins, you can put an illustrated, detailed, documented booklet in someone's hands, show someone Meet Your Meat (meat.org) through online advertising, or show them a thirty-second vegetarian commercial. It takes so little to be the animals' voice, yet few of us even consider utilizing the power we have.
Even though U.S. society is composed mainly of professed Christians, most ignore Christ's words to the rich man: "Go, sell all that you have, and give to the poor" (Matthew 19). In an attempt to update the principal for our often selfish society, Singer makes the case that a reasonable standard for most of us would be to give away twenty percent of our income. Will that hurt, given that we've grown accustomed to our current level of income? For most of us, it will. At the very least, it will require an adjustment. But can we do it without actual physical harm coming to us? For most of us, yes, we can. Organizations dedicated to reducing as much suffering as possible can use that money to make the world better—far more so than whatever we might otherwise spend it on.
Singer sums up this concept in How Are We To Live?, writing:In a society in which the narrow pursuit of material self-interest is the norm, the shift to an ethical stance is more radical than many people realize. In comparison with the needs of people starving in Somalia, the desire to sample the wines of the leading French vineyards pales into insignificance. Judged against the suffering of immobilized rabbits having shampoos dripped into their eyes, a better shampoo becomes an unworthy goal. An ethical approach to life does not forbid having fun or enjoying food and wine, but it changes our sense of priorities. The effort and expense put into buying fashionable clothes, the endless search for more and more refined gastronomic pleasures, the astonishing additional expense that marks out the prestige car market in cars from the market in cars for people who just want a reliable means to getting from A to B, all these become disproportionate to people who can shift perspective long enough to take themselves, at least for a time, out of the spotlight. If a higher ethical consciousness spreads, it will utterly change the society in which we live.
We Can Do ItTake sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented.—Elie Wiesel Consider this: The people we admire are not those who went along with the crowd, who did whatever was allowed by the norms of their times. Rather, the people we rightly respect are those who stood up to the prejudices of their society. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., Dorothy Day, Mohandas Gandhi, Susan B. Anthony, and so many other individuals changed their world. We are all called to do no less.
In the face of so much suffering, it can become easy to become despondent and to think that we can't change the world. But if we break our work into chunks, celebrate the "small" victories for what they really mean (e.g., turning one person vegetarian changes their entire life forever and makes a massive, positive impact in the world), and keep ourselves focused on our goals, we can realize what significant progress we're making. After decades of experience as activists, we're deeply and profoundly optimistic. Every day, we take inspiration in a review of the progress that has been won for social justice and animal protection (as we discuss at greater length in Chapter Five).
There are, of course, many potential targets for our activism: two billion people live without access to clean water; eight hundred million don't have enough calories to sustain themselves; women in many parts of the world suffer unjust treatment and violence; our fellow creatures are abused and slaughtered.
These are a few of our society's current practices that, we're convinced, future generations will look back on with the same sense of incredulity we reserve for past atrocities like slavery and witch burnings. We are called to be like those we admire for standing up against the prejudices of their day.
Why Vegetarian Advocacy?
Because our singular goal is to have the greatest impact on the amount of suffering in the world, we've chosen to dedicate our lives to exposing the cruelties of factory farms and industrial slaughterhouses while promoting a vegetarian diet.
Emphasizing factory farms and dietary change is not our "personal issue." We have no special affinity to farmed animals over other animals (or human beings). Rather, this conscious choice follows directly from our fundamental guiding principles: 1) We want to maximize the reduction of suffering, and 2) We know that, by choosing to do one thing, we're choosing not to do other things.
Our experience has shown that promoting vegetarianism offers the most effective and efficient way of decreasing overall suffering, for three basic reasons—the sheer number of animals, the enormous amount of suffering involved, and the opportunity the issue presents.
The Numbers
The number of animals raised and killed for food each year in the U.S. alone vastly exceeds any and all other forms of exploitation, involving numbers far greater than the total human population of the entire world: more than ten billion land animals are consumed in the U.S. each year; the human global population is just over six billion. Approximately ninety-nine out of every hundred animals killed in the U.S. each year are slaughtered for human consumption. From a statistical standpoint, every animal killed in the U.S. dies to be eaten.
The Suffering
Of course, if these billions of animals lived happy, healthy lives and had quick and painless deaths, then our concern for suffering might lead us to focus our efforts elsewhere. (See our appendices on "Humane Meat" and "A Theory of Ethics" for more on the ethical questions surrounding killing animals to eat them.) But animals raised for food in the U.S. must endure unimaginable suffering. Indeed, perhaps the most difficult aspect of advocating on behalf of these animals is trying to describe the indescribable: the overcrowding and confinement, the stench, the racket, the extremes of heat and cold, the attacks and even cannibalism, the hunger and starvation, the illness, the mutilation, the drugging and breeding that create animals who can't even walk (e.g., "Farmed Chickens Can't Walk; Just Grow Them in Vats Already," blog.wired.com/wiredscience/2008/02/chickens-cant-w.html)—in short, the near-constant suffering and horror of every day of their lives. Indeed, every year, hundreds of millions of animals—many times more than the total number killed for fur, in shelters, and in laboratories combined—don't even make it to slaughter. They actually suffer to death.
The Opportunity
If there were nothing we could do about these animals' suffering—if it all happened in a distant land beyond our influence—then, again, our focus would be different. But anti-factory-farming/pro-vegetarianism advocacy is the most readily accessible option for making a better world. We don't have to overthrow a government. We don't have to forsake modern life. We don't have to win an election or convince Congress of the validity of our argument. We don't have to start a group or organize a campaign. Rather, every day, every single person makes decisions that affect the lives of these farmed animals. Helping people change leads to fewer animals suffering in factory farms. By choosing to expose the horrors of modern agribusiness and promote vegetarianism, every person we meet is a potential victory.
All thoughtful people want to see the world become more just and peaceful. Nearly everyone is worried about injustice and violence and wishes they could do something to stop it. What can we do about starvation and AIDS in sub-Saharan Africa? We can donate money, write letters, or try to get the government to intervene and give more aid. But all of those actions, though well-meaning, are far removed from having a measurable effect. On the other hand, when we sit down to eat, we make a concrete decision about who we are in the world. We each answer the question: "Do I want to add to the level of violence and misery and bloodshed in the world, or do I want to make a kind and compassionate choice?"
Simply put, the meat industry is violence we can either support or help stop. Every time we sit down to eat, we have the opportunity to have a profound impact on the world. Every meat-free meal is a blow against factory farms. Every time someone notices we don't eat meat, we're providing the animals a voice. It's hard to imagine any other choice we can make with such far-reaching effects.
It's very powerful to realize that following a vegetarian diet and setting a cruelty-free example allow us to take a stand against violence and suffering. Every single time we order from a menu, go shopping, or open up the refrigerator, we stand up for compassion. It is even more powerful to realize that every day, we can multiply that impact through our advocacy.
Seeing the Unseen
Our goal is to put aside our personal affinities, and instead focus solely on the suffering of others. In doing so, we've found that the above three points—the numbers, the suffering, and the opportunity—when taken together, are a logically compelling and, indeed, an irrefutable argument for working to end factory farming and promote vegetarianism.
Paul McCartney has pointed out that, "If slaughterhouses had glass walls, everyone would be a vegetarian." This concisely captures the main problem of vegetarian advocacy: people don't have to see the animals they eat being imprisoned in factory farms and butchered in industrial slaughterhouses. Someone can order a chicken sandwich, and to that person, it's just a sandwich. Even detailed, take-home illustrations, videos, and information about factory farms don't always stick with every individual. Society is set up not only to conceal the realities behind meat and divorce it from the actual animal, but to celebrate inanimate pieces of meat in and of themselves.
Similarly, if the realities of factory farms and slaughterhouses were as visible as the meat they produce, all thoughtful, compassionate individuals would be vegetarian advocates. Strip away the elaborate concealment and we'd see that nearly all animals exploited in this country suffer and die to be eaten. With the animals visible, it would be apparent that every single person can make a direct and massive positive impact, simply by choosing to eat kind foods, rather than cruel foods.
Our inherent prejudice in favor of familiar animals (and for those whose suffering is immediately in front of us) has led those concerned with animals to spend hundreds of millions of dollars on cats and dogs each year, while focusing very little on the billions of domesticated animals slaughtered to be eaten. This is why one email plea about homeless pets in New Orleans is able to bring in much more money than any fundraiser for vegetarian promotion. Our hearts go out to familiar animals ("pets") who suffer through wars, natural disasters, and who are killed in shelters. We are, of course, glad that many people are compassionate toward these animals. Similar compassion and level of concern, exhibited efficiently and without prejudice, however, could have an exponentially greater impact.
For example, assuming only a very conservative one percent rate of change from the booklets that groups like Vegan Outreach and PETA distribute, there are tens of thousands of vegetarians in the world who would otherwise have eaten meat for the rest of their lives. Since the average American consumes about three-dozen factory-farmed birds and mammals a year (and even more aquatic animals), distribution of these booklets has led to many hundreds of millions of birds and mammals being completely spared from the horrors of factory farms over the next fifty years. And that's assuming only a one percent total rate of influence and no multiplier effect (i.e., that each of these new vegetarians doesn't influence anyone else)!
In fact, there's reason to believe that the conversion rate is quite a bit higher, and that the multiplier effect is very powerful. PETA surveyed people who received their vegetarian starter guide, and responses indicated that more than eighty percent of non-vegans changed in diet, with twenty-three percent going from meat eater to an entirely vegetarian or vegan diet after reading the guide. Clearly there's some self-selection in survey responses, but these results indicate that the rate of change is probably greater than one percent, and that even those who don't immediately go entirely vegetarian may be cutting back on their meat consumption (see animaladvocacybook.com for more details).
Because there are so few of us who look beyond the familiar and immediate, recognize the magnitude of the suffering caused by eating meat, and understand the opportunity vegetarian outreach presents, we have a special obligation to do the hard, intangible, and often unrewarding work of removing the walls that hide the atrocities of factory farms and industrial slaughterhouses. We need to be the vanguard, working as much as possible to abolish, totally and forever, the horrors of modern animal agriculture.
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