A Meat and Dairy Article from All-Creatures.org

"For a mouthful of meat...." A veterinarian student in a slaughterhouse. A report by Dr Christiane M. Haupt

From There's an Elephant in the Room blog
March 2024

Because I feel not only terror and revulsion towards a murder committed upon a human being, but also towards those committed thousands of times upon animals, in one single week and in one single abattoir. Being human, doesn’t that signify saying no and refusing to be a silent partner in murder on a grand scale, for a piece of meat? Strange new world. It is possible that the tiny calves inside their mothers’ torn uteruses, dead even before they were born, had the best deal of all.

Image by Tommaso Ausili from https://www.tommasoausili.com/the-hidden-death


I have been vegan for 12 years. It’s been 12 years of discovery and despair, of grief and frustration. The one thing that hardens with every day that passes, however, is my resolve to advocate for the rights of our species’ defenceless victims, the victims of nonveganism, until my dying breath.

Over the years, a number of writers, articles, and advocates stand out as having been hugely influential at the start when I was just discovering the true meaning of veganism. This is one such article. The chilling, matter-of-fact description of a student undergoing an obligatory period of six weeks in a slaughterhouse in order to obtain their professional qualification left me shaken and with indelible images in my mind that still influence me these many years later. Grim, and indeed lengthy, as it is, I’m sharing it with you.

Sometimes we all need to strengthen our resolve and remind ourselves why we must fight relentlessly against the atrocity of nonveganism that pervades a violent and bloodthirsty species where most mistakenly consider themselves to be ‘animal lovers’. This is a completely unforgettable reminder of why we can’t give up.

A veterinarian student in a slaughterhouse

‘The inscription above the concrete ramps reads: “Only animals that are transported in accordance with animal protection laws and that are correctly identified are accepted”. At the end of the ramp lies a dead pig, pale and stiff. “Yes, some die already during transport. From cardiac arrest.”

Luckily I have brought my old jacket. At the beginning of October it is already freezing cold. That, however, is not the only reason for me to shiver. I bury my hands in my pockets and try to keep a friendly face as I listen to the director of the abattoir. He explains that for a long time there has been no complete health check on animals, only an inspection. 700 pigs per day – how else could they cope? “There are no sick animals anyway. They would be sent back immediately, and the supplier would face a stiff fine. They only try it once and then never again.” I nod obligingly – stay calm. Keep a stiff upper lip. You have to get through these six weeks somehow – and wonder what happens to sick pigs. “There is a special abattoir for them.” I hear about transport regulations and how important the protection of animals is these days. These words, pronounced in a place like this, have a macabre ring to them. In the meantime a double-decker lorry has pulled up at the ramp. Screams and grunts emerge from it. It is difficult to distinguish details in the dim morning light; the whole scene seems surreal and is reminiscent of sinister television reports from war zones – rows of grey train wagons into which terrified, pale-faced people are being driven by armed men.


Please read the ENTIRE ARTICLE HERE.


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