My Vegetarian Hypocrisy Revealed

“So,” my son said, with a snarky tone, “you eat eggs but not chickens. What’s the difference?” Fueled by a glass of wine, I gave a smart-ass response that made little sense. One of my daughters-in-law mounted a more intelligent defense on my behalf, but the encounter left me feeling conflicted and a bit ashamed.

Let me see if I can do better. “Why eggs but not chickens?”

1. Egg production stresses the environment less. One hen makes lots of eggs. One fryer makes …one fryer. Who knows if that’s true, but it feels right. Oh, and I like eggs.
2. I’m not a vegan. I like eggs.

The truth: There is little moral or environmental justification for eating eggs and avoiding eating chickens. Veganism without question has the lowest environmental footprint. It is even the “in” diet these days. Bill Clinton converted. Venus Williams is giving it a try. Mark Bittman, who can teach you how to cook and eat everything, advocates a vegan lifestyle “until dinner” in his New York Times column. All of them revolutionized their diet when their impaired health didn’t respond to traditional American interventions like drugs, a low fat diet, or exercise.

After watching “Forks Over Knives,” I started exploring a plant-based diet more seriously. Many sources pointed to evidence that a well-planned, mostly home-cooked, vegan diet provides optimum health. Yes, we are physically suited to an omnivorous diet. Psychologically, most humans are capable of killing animals to eat. But we humans also possess intellectual and spiritual capabilities. These help us formulate personal values to constrain our physical and psychological urges.

Here are three of mine:

I value the earth’s health because a sick planet dooms my grandchildren. Unfettered exploitation of resources is suicidal and stupid. I’m neither.

I value my health because I dread suffering pain and disability on my way to my grave. Heart disease, diabetes and cancer all bring suffering. They are all strongly linked to diet.

I value humane treatment of those less powerful than me. Videos like this from PETA, make it impossible for me to ignore the lives of the animals whose bodies occupy the center of most American’s plates.

If I’d asked my son last night to justify eating meat, he would have said that he likes meat and does his part to support sustainable farming. He buys organic, pastured, local, and (maybe) humanely raised meat. Like most modern, conscientious omnivores, when he eats at home he focuses on animal husbandry rather than environmental burden or nutritional research. And when eating out, no questions asked. For now.

But I’m prone to ethical shapeshifting too. By eating eggs, however they’re raised, I promote the untimely and unpleasant death of a hen. I can’t hide from that. And after watching a video clip of dairy practices recently, I’m more uncomfortable than ever with eating cheese. I adore cheese. It’s one of my core protein sources. But each time I pick up a block of cheese, it gets harder to ignore the life of the cow who produced it or its contribution to my bad cholesterol.

We are all living an elaborately constructed “middle way.” Some of us lie closer to the vegan endpoint …my ideal. Conscientious omnivores emphasize sustainable livestock practices and organic meat as the goal. We all want health -- for ourselves, for the planet -- and we each strive to get there without compromising our most deeply held values or the quality of our lives.

No, I’m not “all in.” My son’s right. I’m a hypocrite. Processed food, eggs, dairy, sugar …I eat them all, and my health and well-being reflect that. I eat junk when I’m stressed. I trade off healthful food for speed and ease. I’ve become adept at elegant rationalizations for my behavior. But my consciousness is rising again and with that, my guilt. I struggle. That’s why I can’t give my son a very satisfying answer to his question. I know he was baiting me. He disapproves of my lifestyle. I’m a pain in the ass to feed at family gatherings. He wants me to stop my craziness and make everyone’s life easier. So he points out my hypocrisy in hopes that I’ll eat …a nice chicken pot pie. Instead, he makes me think harder, and I creep ever closer to my ideal. I hope he’ll edge closer to his too.