Let's see, let's see.
I'm thinking about striking out with an extremely delicate topic, and the instant advice that I give myself is: watch my words.
Then again, if the topic is delicate and the words are the same, then I'm not sure we're giving needed notice to an often skirted issue. We're not giving it any fight. We're just looking just over the top of its head, muttering under our breath, calling it taboo or messy, and moving on.
If you don't mind, because I certainly don't, I'd like to stick on it, this soon-to-be-named topic, for just a second. I'd like us all to be appropriately uncomfortable for about a minute and a half, or however long it will take you to skim through this. (A minute and a half assuming that a. you will either skip the boring parts or b. stop reading because you're pissed or hungry or something).
Ready?
And the subject is: passivity! Which, should you need an exact definition, is the act of accepting or allowing what happens or what others do without active response or resistance.
See, that wasn't so hard, was it. To mention a dirty (or maybe just confusing) word, to define it openly, to announce it's pertinence in today's post.
I get that this topic is a little scabby, that it's not something we're all that good at sitting still about. It's even a little awkward. And it's certainly a little personal, considering it could be spun towards topics of war and such, a subject that isn't likely to leave our lips and minds anytime soon.
These things thoughtfully in mind, I'd like to dig into that word. And by that I mean that I want to get to the root of its meaning, to the heart of its practice (or lack of practice, whichever makes more sense). Not the actual, genuine Greek roots per say, but. You know. I'm saying there's a problem here, and I'm attempting to start digging towards the bottom. I want to figure out where it began and how it justifies itself and where it appropriates its appearance.
What originally got me thinking about this notion of passiveness, in comparison to activeness, is the current book I am reading, Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. I would normally say "the book I am enjoying" rather than reading. And though I intensely enjoy reading, especially when the words are that of Safran Foer's, his honest (and dear God, yet again necessary) unveiling of the cruelty behind factory farming falls far below enjoyable. Though his words, as always, resound, a more appropriate description of my reaction to every other page would be heart-brokenness, some confusion, extreme nausea, and anger anger anger.
Basically, Safran Foer wants to know, and therefore writes to find out, what we should think about eating animals. He wants to know why it's socially acceptable to eat a dog in parts of Asia, but that in North America (where it is actually legal in forty-four of the United States) it would be considered gasp-worthy, shameful, perhaps even (to some) grounds for prosecution. He wants to know who determines the edibility of certain species, and how. He demands answers and adjustments for how factory farmers house and feed their livestock. He wants to know why we're treating living objects like corporate material. He wants to know why we feel comfortable raising a life-turned-machine merely to provide bacon for our Sunday brunches, drumsticks for our dinners.
I'm only a third of the way through the book. And already I'm squirming. Which is okay. In fact, I expected it. I knew what I was getting myself into. I was aware of what was likely to happen, and I tried to remain unafraid of that. It's hard to prepare yourself for change. It's hard to say to yourself, Okay, this could very likely turn something I accept into something I question, but I'm looking to grow, expand my horizons, see another point of view. I'm willing to admit that maybe I'm not right.
I wouldn't consider myself a radical in any sense. I'm not a member of PETA. In fact, I ate turkey chili just the other day. I'm not saying that eating a steak for dinner is getting you sent to hell. In fact, I'm not even meaning to write about whether or not we should eat animals. (Though probably, at least once I'm halfway through the book and the question becomes too overwhelming to ignore, I will probably have a thing or two more to say/wonder about it). I get that factory farming provides more affordable food for people. I also get that our country is grossly over-provided for. I get that traditional family farms have become nearly obsolete. I also get that a chicken should never be "produced" simply to live in and never leave a 67-square-inch pen, be scientifically processed to lay eggs round the clock, urinated on, have its beak cut off and/or then sent directly into a machine much like a wood chipper, while live, because it was eventually rendered useless. In case you aren't sure, 67-square inches is about the size of half a shoebox. And yes, there have been recorded cases of slaughterhouse employees pissing on already heavily abused livestock.
Seriously, that's about as much as I can give you on that topic so far. But it's going to come back up. If that alone isn't enough to get you thinking, then I guess you can just skip that future post, whenever it comes around.
Anyway; what I'm wondering about this time is how we react to things like this. To hearing these facts, to knowing what's really going on, to even sometimes seeing with our own eyes the indiscretions that often times go under the radar, that have people craning to look the other way. (Don't worry; though the eating animals question is a big and important one, this is where I'm starting to direct this towards all situations where we have a choice to do something or not.)
So I guess that's it: to do or not to do. What will "doing" something actually cost us, what will the results be, if any, will there be any progress, will it take much effort? Will it actually matter?
I think that our education, however we choose to take it, lends a realm of responsibility that, if denied, turns into instant progress of fear, of laziness, of a hoping that someone else will do the dirty work, someone else will deal with the raging mob. But if everyone else is waiting for your move, and if you keep waiting for a sign that it's safe again, we're looking at a dramatic decrease in belief, in the right to say, Here's what I think, and here's what I'm going to do about it. Suddenly it will seem pushy to have an opinion. Suddenly everyone that has an idea is a raving loon, certainly certifiable and, in most cases, quite mouthy.
I knew that picking up this book meant I was going to learn a lot of really disgusting things. A lot of awful facts about diseases, about malnutrition, about abuse. I was even told, by several people, that they knew I was going to want to change after reading it. I was told I would feel guilty, upset. Enough so that I would be inclined to change my habits.
I'm worried that these people had too much faith in me.
I haven't landed on either side of the line yet. But that isn't the point. The point is the information is out there now. The startling and often times unbelievable information is in my hands, between a hardback kelly green dust jacket. And what I'm starting to think is this: I don't know if we should be willing to learn the truth if we aren't willing to work with it. (Again, going beyond the dilemma of an omnivore's lifestyle.) We shouldn't ask for the facts if we're just going to shrug and resume. I'd like to know that you still bought chicken from your grocery store because you weren't aware of the automated "throat-slitter" they are put through, often times still fully conscious, rather than because you just simply couldn't give up McNuggets.
If you aren't aware of something, no one can expect much of you, right?
Well. Right. To a point. There are some issues that people would be shocked to hear you weren't informed of. The loop of Catch-22 type drama has never been more abundant. Still, a lot of times we ignore the news or the headlines (or the animals) because we don't want to have to do something. We don't want to know what we can't afford to invest. We don't want to donate, we don't want to spend time, we don't want to worry, we don't want to flex a little, cut back, put forth, speak up.
And nobody wants some pushy picketer shouting in their face. No one wants dead raccoons in their office or blood smeared on their furs. Punching people in the guts with your beliefs isn't really going to get you anything but a lot of enemies. If I know anything, no one likes to be told how to live.
I'm not saying that doing something means you become one of those people. Your heart, if it's going to be at all protected, should probably steer away from your sleeve vicinity. Your changes should change your life. If they can change the circumstances, fantastic. If they can make a tiny dent in some crater of a problem, it matters. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, not even yourself. Often times, that's where our lack of active is born and buried. We're all ready to start forth, to have a brand new day. Until we buy clothes made in a sweatshop, or food from a factory farm, or ignore the evening news for a Gilmore Girls rerun.
This is our world. We're entirely responsible for this shit that we seem to be up to our necks in. And don't be confused, I'm not a good person. I make a lot of phenomenal mistakes, and writing this has mostly been a pep talk for me to move on to the next chapter of Eating Animals. Admitting that something needs to be done is beyond easy. Doing something, even if it's a change only you can see, is what's going to take everything you've got.
I'm not ready for a lot of things, I admit. Being informed carries the weight of being motivated in an exceptional way. And some days we have to fight for that, if only that. What comes next is preparing for the change and preparing for it to hurt. We need to brace ourselves to be uncomfortable, to say what we really mean, and to accept being disagreed with, looked down on, brushed aside.
If I become a vegetarian after I finish this book, a lot of people are going to think that's stupid. Some of them while knowing all the exact same things I will, some of them knowing nothing at all about it. Some people will approve, some people won't care.
What I'm saying is, this doesn't matter. Whether or not you do something isn't so you can have a band of followers or someone to discuss your beliefs with. While that would be nice, and while it does exist at times, this is a purely ridiculous reason for incentive.
If you do something small, something that only you may notice, this is action, as far as I'm concerned. It's not changing the world. But it's making a small difference in your own. It's not obnoxious (hopefully) or forcing someone else to agree with you by attacking them (again, really never the way to go if you're looking for someone to hear you out). I mean, of course, you are completely entitled to discuss your beliefs with those around you. This is, in fact, what I'm doing right now. And I'm not the type to shy away from disagreement. I just feel like to passively accept something means we're going to take it lying down. We're just going to allow disasters and sigh over them a bit, shake our heads in disapproval, and trot along, looking for another thing to be disappointed over. Until then, however, we'll just decide not to mind.
But I mind. I mind that animals are mistreated. So if all I can do is no longer choose to support such an operation, then I guess I've gone from passive to active.
You do something you believe in because, just that: you believe it. You have learned, and you sense a required change. So you make the change, and you stick to it. Or you try. Either way, what you learn should be determined by what you are willing to do about it.
So far, what I'm willing to do is keep reading. After this book, probably others. If you decide that you're open to the knowledge, be open to what it's going to bring you to, be open to that being difficult and untimely.
It is, after all, almost Christmas. I guess I'll be skipping the ham this year. That is, in case it turns out I'll be giving it up for good.
