JamesR said:
If that was true, there'd be no problems of obesity, or addition to alcohol or other drugs. People put all kinds of things into their bodies which are not good for them, and which their bodies do not "demand".
This is one of those times where you have to separate “brain” and “body”. It is a difficult conceptual separation, true. But when you consider the correlation between blood type and diet, for instance … haven’t I covered this already? Why, when the body is presented with multiple foods to digest, does it take up the simple carbohydrates first? What you or I in our minds consider “best” is different from what our bodies consider “best”.
Addiction is largely a brain-centered phenomenon, and has about as much to do with diet as ejaculation. Obesity is, to some degree, an addiction, and yet there is still the issue of how a body processes its fuel: have you not heard the lament, “No diet helps”? Some moderate obesity can be influenced through considerations of blood type and diet, much through exercise. But there are some people who are simply obese, and we have not figured out as a society how best to help them.
Furthermore, I would ask you to clarify something:
How do you compare “obesity” and “addiction” to the idea that suddenly, one day, my eyes see spinach, and my body, which has never before appreciated greens, suddenly craves it?
Sounds like addiction to me, eh? I’m “addicted” to spinach? It’s all about pleasure, isn’t it? Just base greed?
Both you and Mountainhare have made this ridiculous comparison, and I have yet to figure out how exactly either of you consider it reasonable.
1. I do not believe you body (as opposed to your mind) "barely tolerates" vegetables.
In addition to a lack of appeal that qualifies as a specific revulsion, everything goes to hell. You can believe what you want, since that is the basis of your moral crusade, but the reality of energy disbursement, gastrointestinal stability, and brain functions all speak, in my experience, against your belief.
Think of hummus, another random thing that has turned on in my life: my body’s response to hummus is considerably more positive than my body’s response to asparagus, carrots, &c. But hummus to me is like Chinese food to others; I can gorge on hummus and be hungry again an hour later. It’s snack food at present.
Of course, maybe it’s addiction. Or just plain greed.
2. I do not believe your "sociofunctional rhythms" are more important than the life of an innocent animal.
Believe what you want, sir. For ‘tis true. My sociofunctional rhythms bear little importance in the grand scheme of things, but so does your moral crusade. In the more immediate, as I’m directly interacting with my brain on a chemical level (e.g. SSRI) it would seem rather quite stupid to do things that increase the frequency of a given brain status when I am trying to diminish said frequency. The next time someone tells me to “get a job”, or to not take an issue so seriously as to let it affect my thought and behavior over a given period, I’ll point them in your direction. The better my sociofunctional rhythms, the greater my contribution to the human endeavor.
3. The moral argument I am making here is not "unfounded". I have given a number of excellent justifications for it.
I have addressed these justifications. Well, I think I have. It seems to me you’re repeating yourself a good deal.
To revisit one of your points:
The extension of this argument to plants is just a distraction. There is no evidence that plants have any kind of consciousness, or any subjective experience of suffering. But, even if there was, that would only provide an argument for not eating at all. It would not provide an argument in favour of eating meat.
I’m restraining myself from transcribing the most part of five pages from Aldous Huxley. Perhaps this debate will leave me no choice in the long run. But to post a portion of it here for you now:
The spectacle of a dying animal affects us painfully; we can see its struggles and, sympathetically, feel something of its pain. The unseen agony of a plant leaves us indifferent. To a being with eyes a million times more sensitive than ours, the struggles of a dying plant would be visible and therefore distressing. Bose’s instrument endows us with this more than microscopical acuteness of vision. The poisoned flower manifestly writhes before us. The last moments are so distressingly like those of a man, that we are shocked by the newly revealed spectacle of them into a hitherto unfelt sympathy.
Sensitive souls, whom a visit to the slaughterhouse has converted to vegetarianism, will be well advised, fi they do not want to have their menu still further reduced, to keep clear of the Bose Institute. After watching the murder of a plant, they will probably want to confine themselves to a strictly mineral diet. But the new self-denial would be as vain as the old. The ostrich, the sword-swallower, the glass-eating fakir are as cannibalistic as the frequenters of chop-houses, take life as fatally as do the vegetarians. Bose’s earlier researches on metals—researches which show that metals respond to stimuli, are subject to fatigue and react to poisons very much as living vegetable and animal organisms do—have deprived the conscientious practitioners of ahisma of their last hope. They must be cannibals, for the simple reason that everything, including the “inanimate” is alive.
This last assertion may seem—such is the strength of inveterate prejudice—absurd and impossible. But a little thought is enough to show that it is, on the contrary, an assertion of what is a priori probable. Life exists. Even the most strict and puritanical physicists are compelled, albeit grudgingly, to admit the horridly disquieting fact. Life exists, manifestly, in a small part of the world we know. How did it get there? There are two possible answers. Either it was, at a given moment, suddenly introduced into a hitherto completely inanimate world from the outside and by a kind of miracle. Or else it was, with consciousness, inherent in the ultimate particles of matter and, from being latent, gradually extrinsicated itself in ever increasingly complicated and perfect forms. In the present state of knowledge—or ignorance, put it how you will—the second answer seems the more likely to be correct. If it is correct, then one might expect that inanimate matter would behave in the same way as does matter which is admittedly animate. Bose has shown that it does. It reacts to stimuli, it suffers fatigue, it can be killed. There is nothing in this that should astonish us. If the conclusion shocks our sense of fitness, that is only due to the fact that we have, through generations, made a habit of regarding matter as something dead; a lump that can be moved, and whose only real attribute is extension. Motion and extension are easily measured and can be subjected to mathematical treatment. Life, especially in its higher, conscious forms, cannot. To deny life to matter and concentrate only on its measurable qualities was a sound policy that paid by results. No wonder we made a habit of it. Habits easily become a part of us. We take them for granted, as we take for granted our hands and feet, the sun, falling downstairs instead of up, colours and sounds. To break a physical habit may be as painful as an amputation; to question the usefulness of an old-established habit of thought is felt to be an outrage, an indecency, a horrible sacrilege. (Aldous Huxley, Jesting Pilate)
And yes, I did leave out a bit; to describe the writhing of the poisoned plant would be extraneous and aesthetic, and it is aesthetics to which I protest in your classification. There is, in the United States, an advert that ran on television last year, depicting a Buddhist convert expressing his horror when he realized that he was blowing his nose into a tissue that “kills flu germs”. Notwithstanding that I consider viruses to lack life, I think the point is still relevant. There are sects that have retreated to a mineral diet because they specifically reject such aesthetics as your standard. Life is life, and, as Huxley notes, to classify according to perceptions of suffering (e.g. “consciousness”, or “subjective experience of suffering”) is merely an aesthetic standard. I would go so far as to call it dishonest in terms of moral proselytizing.
The old-established “habit” of eating meat is evolutionary. Your established habit of aesthetics is merely aesthetic. And in life, as in art, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
As to other considerations at hand, such as industrial farming, as I have
stated before: “
I think we have a lot more to worry about concerning methods of distribution and allocation of wealth. Capital obsession is much more a threat to human sustenance than carnivorous habits.”
In the meantime, I still wonder about the flip in presuppositions: your reduction of nature’s ways to petty excuses requires some justification on your part that doesn’t involve fallacious appeals to emotion and aesthetics.
And don’t worry about time passed; I intend to take some time with other aspects of this discussion, in part because of time constraints, but also because I’m trying to figure out just how seriously I should take your continued fanaticism. You might as well be preaching the Gospels of Christ for all the validity you’re managing.