Saturday, February 11, 2012

Why Do We Hate Vegetarians?

There are many irrational prejudices which confound me, but none moreso than the animosity that so many feel towards vegetarians.  Unlike prejudices towards, say, racial minorities or non-heterosexuals, hatred of vegetarians borders on social acceptability.  You can’t say you’re annoyed by black people (nor should you—this makes you an intolerant bigot) but if you say something like “Save a cow—eat a vegetarian”, it gets a laugh.  Well, it should, because that’s a funny joke.  But only because it’s so absurdist and hyperbolic.  In reality, though, it becomes okay to taunt vegetarianism.
           
Now, let me be perfectly clear about this—I am not a vegetarian.  I eat meat on a pretty regular basis—I may not be the biggest carnivore in the world, but I will not even patronize you by making you think I’m on the cusp of vegetarianism.  I’m not.  Sometimes I get on a run where I’m eating a lot of salad or where I’m just eating a ton of cheese (Note: Vegetarianism at least seems plausible to me.  The notion of veganism blows my fucking mind) and I think “You know, maybe I don’t really eat meat as much as I think I do”, and then a couple of hours later I crave bacon.  But anyway, why should I care if somebody else is a vegetarian?
            
If somebody asks how I feel about gay men, I personally like to give the line “It means there are more women out there for me.”  While this is just obviously a way to inject unnecessary chauvinism into a discussion of gay rights, there is a certain logic to this.  This person is not a threat to me; under no circumstances am I in competition with them.  Shouldn’t the same apply with vegetarians?  “Hey, since that guy ordered a Fruit and Walnut Salad in front of me at McDonald’s, it means the odds that they ran out of meat for McDoubles have declined somewhat.  This is a positive.”  Yet for some reason, this isn’t the case.  Now, it’s a completely different issue if somebody is being sanctimonious, telling me that I’m a murderer every time I eat a chicken wing—at that point, I’m getting annoyed at them for being a holier-than-thou prick, not for what’s on his or her plate.  But if they merely order differently than I do, where’s the threat?
           
I have a theory about this, which is that we as humans are inclined to prefer the most middle of the road option possible.  Vegetarianism or veganism just seems too extreme, too left of center (a phrase I use mostly as an expression, though I suppose it makes political sense as well).  And the honest truth is that the exact opposite, a carnivorous survivalist who obsesses over eating the cutest animals possible, isn’t exactly appealing either.  For pretty much anybody.  People fear the vegetarian, but they also fear the bizarro-vegetarian.
           
This desire for moderation doesn’t just appeal to whether or not somebody eats meat, either.  Take the two extremes of drinking: There’s the person ranging somewhere from lush to alcoholic who feels that booze is necessary to be happy and is extremely vociferous about his or her drinking.  There’s also the teetotaler who refuses to drink and will vilify anyone who has a single drink as a detriment to society.  Now, as a casual drinker who never has more than a couple of drinks, greatly prefers being with a small group of friends or being at a quiet bar/restaurant than being at a crowded party, and eschews most drinking clichés (i.e. drinking Anheuser-Busch products), I don’t care much for either of these extremes.  I don’t like the frat boy/sorority girl stereotype evoked by the former and I don’t like the Prohibitionist asshole evoked by the latter.  I’m not even saying that this stance isn’t valid—I’m just saying that, once again, I’m opting for moderation.
            
A few more examples: I don’t care for gratuitously sexist music, but will equally trash saccharine ballads.  I mock those who watch brain-dead summer action movies, but also those who refuse to acknowledge the cinematic virtue of movies that aren’t French art house films.  I care about protecting the environment for future generations, but will just as quickly mock environmentalists as hippie tree-huggers.  In short, I’m a hypocrite.  But in all likelihood, you are too.  Maybe not about these specific issues, but about something.  It’s a natural tendency to want to be in the middle of the road.  90%, or maybe even more, of people could best be defined as liberal or conservative (there are certain extremes to these labels, for sure, but most lean one way or another), yet the most popular self-categorization of one’s political affiliation is “independent.”  As though being an independent makes one smarter or more desirable as a human (conversely, many studies have indicated that self-identified independents are actually much less educated on key issues than either liberals or conservatives).
           
The metaphorical middle of the road is considered a safe zone, but perhaps we as a society should view it otherwise.  In actuality, the middle of the road is one of the most dangerous and undesirable places in the world because you’re a slight skew away from getting hit.  Rather than getting angry at vegetarians or vegetarianism, so long as they are not shoving their message down your throat, perhaps we as a society should celebrate people, even if we do not adhere to the same principles to which they adhere, for being willing to stray from society norms and take a stance of principle rather than being a mindless drone who chooses their life’s actions because “everybody else is doing it.”  But I guess it’s just easier to follow the herd.

1 comment:

  1. My current guess is that it's not vegetarians that everyone hates, though they may convince themselves they do; it's the idea that someone else is ethically above them. They may see why it'd be a good idea to make a change, but they don't like that they'd have a hard time doing it themselves while others have.

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