Mark Goldfarb,
ArtsAndOpinion.com
May 2009

Without death there can be no life. Yet we take the gift of death for
granted.
In the year 2004 over 100 million chickens, ducks and turkeys were massacred
worldwide to control the spread of avian influenza (bird flu). They were
burned, drowned, gassed, poisoned, kicked to death, strangled, shot or
stuffed into plastic bags and buried alive in an effort to contain the
inevitable pandemic that lies just around the corner and threatens the
health not only of birds but other members of the animal kingdom, including
humans.
This year in the United States alone, 300 million hens will be raised to lay
eggs. Nine billion chickens will be raised and slaughtered for meat. The
overwhelming majority of these birds – 98% of them – are factory-farmed:
enslaved flocks of up to 125,000 housed in soccer-field sized sheds equipped
with battery cages ideally engineered to breed disease and psychosis. From
their first inbreath to their last outbreath an exclusive section of hell
measuring 8 inches long by 8 inches wide by 15 inches high will be a hen’s
home and sole horizon. Denied light, space, the freedom to love and care for
their young and virtually every other activity endemic to their nature;
force-fed food products inimical to the species, dosed with pharmaceuticals
toxic to their imperiled immune system, and as a final insult massively
sprayed with antibiotics and pesticides without which they could never
survive let alone grow fat in such wretched conditions – by slaughter time
they are nothing more than crippled, infected bags of blood and bones. This
is their beginning, middle and ending. It is not a scene you will see
portrayed in a Disney movie.
The deprivations, degradations and depredations inflicted upon them point to
a profound lack of respect humans have for non-human life, and I have not
even touched upon the pollutive and denaturing processes to which their
carcasses are subjected betwixt the butcher and your local grocery or
restaurant – practices that compromise human health and bespeak an abysmal
contempt for human life. What price do we pay for the self-conferred right
to raise and eat poultry? It is steeper than you might imagine. If you grasp
the unsentimental, hardboiled fact that we are what we eat, you cannot fail
to fathom its corollary: we are no less what what we devour devours.
Some people, and I am one of them, would say the way these birds live is not
worth living. They are better off dead than alive and confined to the
ignominious squalor and abuse which the world’s agricultural, nutritional
and scientific experts conjoined with the feeble, unspoken acquiescence of
their constituents endorse as essential and extol as humane. Continually
tested and continually found wanting, we have given chickens more reasons
then they need to rise up. If they are waiting for the barbarians they need
wait no longer. They have arrived. And they are us.
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