Dueling Dodos

Paul:   Behold, The Dodo Bird!

Actually, I am being a bit facetious. You can't actually behold the dodo bird. I doubt I need to point out to anyone that this is not a photograph of a dodo, but a 17th Century drawing, possibly made by someone complicit in the destruction of the dodo. The dodo no longer exists. We humans discovered it on the island of Mauritius in the late 1500s. Over the next 75 years or so, we killed every single one of them on the planet. Why? Because we could.

Those who know their American history shouldn't find this too surprising as the early post-Revolutionary expansion settlers did likewise to the American buffalo.

Laurie:   Yeah, and the Native Americans.

Paul:   Well, I wasn't going to go there, but, yes let's not forget about them. Anyway, as I was saying, they shot and killed defenseless and harmless animals with alarming industry, nearly driving the species into extinction.  And they would have gotten away with it too if it weren't for those meddling National Parks.

Bear in mind, when I say "we," I do understand that no one currently walking the earth (save the Highlanders)...

Laurie:   Hold on a minute. Who are the Highlanders?

Paul:  Geek joke.  Readers, you should probably get used to geek jokes.

Laurie: And you should get used to me not getting them.

Paul:  Highlander was a fantasy movie franchise in the 1980s with Christopher Lambert and Sean Connery which inexplicably became several fantasy television series on B television networks in the 1990s.  The MacLeods are Highlanders (neither of the characters were Gavin) who are a race or clan or something that live forever except that all Highlanders are trying to cut off one another's head in order to be the only one.  So you'll have Highlanders who fought in the Crusades walking around modern New York and so forth.  I wish I could trade all of the parts of my brain that know about Highlanders with a foreign language or how to understand an economic forecast.

Laurie:  Okay, so no one "save the Highlanders"...?

Paul:  Right, none of us could possibly be personally responsible for the death of a dodo. But it is my belief that we all have a form of killing the dodo within us.

The dodo did not have a lot of natural predators aside from the animals who would steal eggs from their probably ill-advised nests on the ground. The dodo had no fear and I don't mean that they were brave. I mean that if you picked up a dodo and got it to squawk, all of the other dodos in the area would waddle over to see what all the noise was about. They were not good eating, being very similar to a pigeon. There was absolutely no good reason for people to kill them except that they were remarkably easy to kill.

In his fantastic book "A Short History of Nearly Everything", Bill Bryson I think rightly puts side by side two events in human history occurring at nearly the same time. One is Isaac Newton's Principia Mathematica, without a doubt one of the high watermarks of human aspirations, one of the grandest works produced by a human mind. Meanwhile, almost simultaneously, although we're not sure when because no one cared enough to even notice, somewhere on Mauritius a sailor or a sailor's pet was killing the last of the dodos. For no good reason at all. The dodo was not very bright, not very fast, but very trusting. Bill Bryson writes "Millions of years of peaceful isolation had not prepared it for the erratic and deeply unnerving behavior of human beings."

And it's worse in a way because no one cared enough to notice when the last dodo died. We don't have an accurate date of extinction. The only records we have of how it looked, acted, and behaved come from mainly unscrupulous sources. No one cared so much that around the time of Darwin a large portion of the scientific community assumed the dodo was a myth until someone found skeletons. The last stuffed dodo was spotted by a grumpy Philistine of a museum director who said, "burn that musty old thing." A biologist who worked at the museum happening by the bonfire was aghast and thunderstruck when he saw the last dodo (stuffed, in this case) thrown into a bonfire. At risk to his own body he reached into the fire and was able to rescue the head.

For me, the two events, the writing of the Principia and the annihilation of the dodo, illustrate a view of humanity and, specifically, I plan on hijacking the parallel to illustrate my own view of humanity. I've had friends in the past to whom I've explained the Christian doctrine of Total Depravity who were unable to get past the sound of the term. One expressed concern over what she thought sounded like a very paranoid view of reality, as if I meant to say that everyone everywhere was sort of a rampant id, Mr. Hyde type at all times. What I actually mean is that humankind creates and aspires to wonderful heights, many of which I spend a lot of time talking about on my blog with art, literature, opera, architecture, poetry, economics, food preparation, science, sculpture, dance and so forth.  On the other hand, humans all down through history have also been notably extraordinary in their capacity for destruction. It's a tale as old as the Eden tree and new as the new cut tooth. From the Fall we go from dominion to dominance, stewardship to consumption, caretaking to execution.

Laurie:  And I would add, from authority to authoritarianism

Paul:  So, Laurie and I became vegetarians recently. We came to the decision, as we so often do with major life choices, independently and then find ourselves astonished at how similar our wavelengths are operating. Here is why we've decided to become vegetarians and the first two are the two reasons that Laurie and I both share:
1) money. Lots of produce, carbs, nuts and dairy no matter how you cut it is way cheaper than meat. We are poor, partly by choice and partly by circumstances. In any case, we are also charting a course in our life of attempting to severely scale back our attachments and consumption.
2) the meat industry. I won't camp too long on this one as there are many resources for grossing yourself out over where your meat comes from way more graphic than anything I would wish to put here (I try to keep this blog PG-13 at worst.) Believe me, we know about a lot of the recent advances, we hold Temple Grandin in high regard. I know Laurie is fully willing to accept meat from people who hunt or raise their own (I'm kind of proud to think my bear chili had something to do with that.) I think Laurie's version is that she would be more happy to eat meat if meat animals roamed free in pastures and lived natural lives (although really she wouldn't be so happy when an eight ounce steak would cost about $250.) Which brings me to my own two points which I'm not sure Laurie is completely with me on.

Laurie:  I object to your order here.  Reason #1 is really closer to my Reason #3.  Sorry, continue

Paul: The order of the list is not a qualitative judgment, merely an ordering mechanism.

3) the opossum. Many of you remember the opossum who was living in our wall and how we decided one day to let it stay there, after we looked at our cats and realized that there are very few differences between the animals aside from aesthetics. In short, we realized we were going to hire a trapper to come kill the thing purely because it was ugly. It wasn't in our house. It wasn't attacking our animals. And eventually it went away or has died and we will start smelling it very soon. But I found myself transferring that same reaction to meat and my pets. I adore our pets and the thought of one dying, much less of eating one, is anathema to me.

4) Compassion. Events of late have also made me keenly aware that in all things I want to be compassionate. In fact, I would like to live my life in such a way that if I had a fault that people remarked upon, I would like for it to be that I was too compassionate. Which leads to:

5) because I can and I know it. I can live just fine without meat and be plenty healthy which also leads to:

6) I've grown quite rotund over the past two years. My blood pressure is up and I've been told by my doctor that my asthma would probably improve if I lost some weight. In all other vegetarian portions of my life I have been thin and already I've lost some weight.

Laurie: You're Reason #6 is really my Reason #2, by the way.

Paul:  But we're not going to be jerks about it. Laurie's stating to everyone that if we're coming over for dinner, don't worry about fussing over the content of the meal for our sake. And I really do mean that. Laurie will eat the occasional meat with gratitude if it is set before her in the spirit of hospitality. And as for me, I actually kind of like just filling up on bread. Also, I'm not going to preach this lifestyle or expect anyone else to follow suit or think any less of anyone who eats anything. It's simply my choice for my life.

Laurie: Really, as far at the meat industry part of the argument goes,  It's a matter of my own conscience, not something I would ever impose on anyone else. I do not think there's anything wrong with eating meat.  But, every time I buy meat I have to close my mind off to the fact that this was once a living breathing creature that lived it's entire existence in a conditions I wouldn't dream of subjecting any animal of my own to, only to have it meet a brutal end in a slaughterhouse. If a creature must die to feed us, the least we can do for it is give it a good life while it lives. I'm just not comfortable spending my own money on anything which perpetuates the abuse of animals. Not buying mass produced meat (which is the only kind I can afford) is my little contribution.

Paul:  I do not wish to be maudlin, but I find myself keenly aware that everything I purchase probably includes the exploitation of someone somewhere in the price, even if it's relatively benign. Who sewed my clothes? Dyed the cloth? Who grew and trucked my produce and coffee? (and given our recent reading of Thoreau, who is getting killed with my tax dollars?) It can drive me mad if I think about it too much. But I'm not sure I shouldn't be thinking about it too much.

But, back to the dodo, and I should probably also mention that the meat cow doesn't seem to be in any danger of going extinct anytime soon (although if you dig up one of those films that show you why you don't want to eat meat from the meat industry, in my experience most of them also go on at length as to how the meat industry is bad for the environment.)  But I submit to you that there is a duel nature at work in all of us. One of the startling revelations I remember from playing Richard III was in preparing the character, coming to the realization that under the right life circumstances, I could be Richard III. I could be a murderous power-mad climber given the right (or wrong as it were) stimulus. We all could. Really, there but for the grace of God go we. A moment of anger, a slight chemical variation in our brain, an injury, an opportunity of a lifetime, the difference between having one's family going hungry or not, and who knows what morality we would push aside. Long may we all live to never have that tested!

All of which, I'll readily admit, sound rather high minded of me. I would restate that I am bound by my own conscience and simply explaining my need to respond to external stimuli in my own way, by no means am I prescribing a lifestyle for anyone else.

We all have the capacity within ourselves for the most wicked, wretched, selfish, vile and senseless behavior. We all also contain within us the ability to aspire to seek at all times to see if there is some good we can do in this world. As I've often said, we can make this world into whatever we choose, and THIS is what we've chosen! I remember from my war protesting days having the conversation many times with people who would remind me that, due to human nature and poorly distributed resources, war would always exist. Some rather defeatist people who are always quick to point out that greed, suffering and injustice will always exist and, most likely, always be dominant over compassion, peace and loving-kindness. Be that as it may, why should that stop us from behaving as we ought? Why should that prevent us from trying? Even if it is futile, why quit? I'm the one who has to live in this brain and the one who has to see my face in the mirror in the morning.
There's a whole world of people out there trying to do good, to be good, to make the world a better place for those around them, people who promote beauty and life. There's also a great mass of people who kill the dodo because it is gentle and harmless and helpless and because we can. Often times, if we're honest with ourselves, we find that we have within us the capacity for either.

As for me, even though it's hopeless, I'm always going to try to be a vote for the dodo.

Laurie:  Well, you kind of stole my thunder there. But I'm going to get my theological bit in here anyway. I really do want to go back to the dodo-killing heart of man for a minute - to the Native Americans, to the elderly and infirm, to the women of patriarchal sub-cultures, to the children. 

Paul: Yes, in my experience, one of the stock objections that vegetarians tend to hear from their omnivorous associates, usually someone like an antagonistic uncle from Glennbeckistan who you only see once a year anyway who has taken it upon himself to ratchet up the tension over Thanksgiving dinner as his only outlet for bullyish entertainment, is along the lines of "you vegetarians care more about animals than you do about humans."  Hopefully we can roundly dispel that accusation in advance in our case to anyone willing to treat us fairly.

Laurie:  As a long-time animal lover, I've always found that an interesting accusation. Not that I justify it, but I don't find it any wonder that folks often find it easier to love animals.  Animals don't sin against us, they aren't wicked or antagonistic. They don't envy or behave unkindly. Which brings me back to my point:  the effect of the Eden tree on dominion, stewardship, care-taking, authority. As humans we've been entrusted with these roles, and gifted with all the abilities necessary to carry them out.  As fallen beings, we've managed to pervert them, every one.  We've been given stewardship over the wonder that is creation. Each thing, so perfectly formed, just suited to God's design, according to its intricate molecular structure, its perfect genetic blueprint, written in the handwriting of God. Every marvel meant to fill our hearts with awe. What an honor to have dominion over such a thing - to be given minds to grasp the very workings, to comprehend the laws upholding it all. And what do we do?

We shut our eyes tight against wonder and become brutes, focused only on our bellies, our glory, and sex organs. We become utilitarian.  We resent the beauty we cannot understand.  We hate the God we see in it. Death to the useless, domination of whatever's left. So, what I'm getting at here is that in all these perversions: domination, consumption/destruction, execution, and authoritarianism we are seeing evidences of the fall - our cursed dodo-killing hearts. When we see the dodo, we don't think of the delight the Creator took in it, it's own right for being. When we happen upon a new land, a useful land, full of people who will not yield or serve us, we exterminate them.  When a man sees a woman, she becomes a servant to his organs.  If he marries her, he misses the wonder of her feminine soul, the glorious mind and heart with which she's been graced and subjugates her to his belly.  If there are children they become extensions of his over-blown ego, trophies of his "manhood", a glory to his self, servants to do his bidding. If their beautiful and unique spirits rise up they are beaten down.

Paul: And those who do not behave in this manner are seen as inferior or weak and mocked by the dodo-killers to further bolster their sense of superiority. 

Laurie: Yes, and such are the perversions of fallen man.  As Christians, however, as those in whom Christ is at work, untangling us from the effects of the fall, we should be the first in line to recognize them for what they are, first to desire change.  The last place such attitudes belong is in our midst and yet over and over I've seen instead the church become a sanctuary for just such behavior.  It is a grievous state of affairs.

Paul: Well, on that happy note...