» City Speak: Seann
Seann Walsh tried to be a vegetarian, but failed
Vegetarianism, unfortunately, makes sense. Without meat, all our nutritional needs can be satisfied, with a minimalised infliction of harm on things that run around in fields. There is widespread belief in animal rights. You’d be confused if someone who was about to kill and eat you said you had rights. It’s a dubious right at best.
If we can reduce harm and distress (not to mention death) on other species and still survive comfortably, it follows that we may as well go veggie. It’s a strong argument. However, it falls down to a considerably weaker one: we cherish convenience and custom over reason. Oh, and meat tastes too nice. Far too nice.
I’ve tried vegetarianism. It’s repetitive. Monday was pasta. Tuesday was pasta again. On Wednesday I tried (disastrously) to make vegetable curry. Thursday, pasta. By Friday, I was an ex-vegetarian.
“When I looked at chicken curry, my mind created scenes of mass slaughter in some kind of chicken Auschwitz”
It’s a shame. My reasons for trying it out were purely ethical: suddenly, I felt uncomfortable with meat. I didn’t see steak; I saw dead cows. When I looked at chicken curry, my mind created scenes of mass slaughter in some kind of chicken Auschwitz. I didn’t see meat anymore; I saw death. This doesn’t happen with vegetables. My conscience isn’t creative enough to twinge at the possibility of families of carrots mourning their dead.
The sad truth, though, is that I became bored. Of course, it’s fair to lay some of the blame on my inability to cook. But my idea of a meal is, roughly speaking, meat and veg. That is to say, a nice bit of meat, some sauce, and some vegetables on the side. They are ingrained in our minds as a side dish. It takes some culinary invention to turn a side dish into anything more than that. Too often in my kitchen I would look at a bag full of green things and think to myself, “I don’t know what to do with that.” So I abandoned ethics in favour of convenience.
Most people don’t even suffer the burden of meat-guilt. They will simply say, as I do now, “I’ve always eaten meat and it tastes too good.” This ready-made, standard-issue carnivore’s argument turns ethics into an elephant in the room, eats the elephant, and still doesn’t mention it.
So there you go. I lose the moral argument, but in this case moral defeat tastes good. I’ll take mine medium-rare.
