Well, all he (and she) had to do was read Weston Price:

Nutrition and Physical Degeneration by Weston A. Price
http://journeytoforever.org/farm_library.html#price

--0--

http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/sep/06/meat-production-veganism-deforestation

I was wrong about veganism. Let them eat meat - but farm it properly

The ethical case against eating animal produce once seemed clear. But 
a new book is an abattoir for dodgy arguments

George Monbiot

guardian.co.uk, Monday 6 September 2010

This will not be an easy column to write. I am about to put down 
1,200 words in support of a book that starts by attacking me and 
often returns to this sport. But it has persuaded me that I was 
wrong. More to the point, it has opened my eyes to some fascinating 
complexities in what seemed to be a black and white case.

In the Guardian in 2002 I discussed the sharp rise in the number of 
the world's livestock, and the connection between their consumption 
of grain and human malnutrition. After reviewing the figures, I 
concluded that veganism "is the only ethical response to what is 
arguably the world's most urgent social justice issue". I still 
believe that the diversion of ever wider tracts of arable land from 
feeding people to feeding livestock is iniquitous and grotesque. So 
does the book I'm about to discuss. I no longer believe that the only 
ethical response is to stop eating meat.

In Meat: A Benign Extravagance, Simon Fairlie pays handsome tribute 
to vegans for opening up the debate. He then subjects their case to 
the first treatment I've read that is both objective and forensic. 
His book is an abattoir for misleading claims and dodgy figures, on 
both sides of the argument.

There's no doubt that the livestock system has gone horribly wrong. 
Fairlie describes the feedlot beef industry (in which animals are 
kept in pens) in the US as "one of the biggest ecological cock-ups in 
modern history". It pumps grain and forage from irrigated pastures 
into the farm animal species least able to process them efficiently, 
to produce beef fatty enough for hamburger production. Cattle are 
excellent converters of grass but terrible converters of concentrated 
feed. The feed would have been much better used to make pork.

Pigs, in the meantime, have been forbidden in many parts of the rich 
world from doing what they do best: converting waste into meat. Until 
the early 1990s, only 33% of compound pig feed in the UK consisted of 
grains fit for human consumption: the rest was made up of crop 
residues and food waste. Since then the proportion of sound grain in 
pig feed has doubled. There are several reasons: the rules set by 
supermarkets; the domination of the feed industry by large 
corporations, which can't handle waste from many different sources; 
but most important the panicked over-reaction to the BSE and 
foot-and-mouth crises.

Feeding meat and bone meal to cows was insane. Feeding it to pigs, 
whose natural diet incorporates a fair bit of meat, makes sense, as 
long as it is rendered properly. The same goes for swill. Giving 
sterilised scraps to pigs solves two problems at once: waste disposal 
and the diversion of grain. Instead we now dump or incinerate 
millions of tonnes of possible pig food and replace it with soya 
whose production trashes the Amazon. Waste food in the UK, Fairlie 
calculates, could make 800,000 tonnes of pork, or one sixth of our 
total meat consumption.

But these idiocies, Fairlie shows, are not arguments against all meat 
eating, but arguments against the current farming model. He 
demonstrates that we've been using the wrong comparison to judge the 
efficiency of meat production. Instead of citing a simple conversion 
rate of feed into meat, we should be comparing the amount of land 
required to grow meat with the land needed to grow plant products of 
the same nutritional value to humans. The results are radically 
different.

If pigs are fed on residues and waste, and cattle on straw, stovers 
and grass from fallows and rangelands - food for which humans don't 
compete - meat becomes a very efficient means of food production. 
Even though it is tilted by the profligate use of grain in rich 
countries, the global average conversion ratio of useful plant food 
to useful meat is not the 5:1 or 10:1 cited by almost everyone, but 
less than 2:1. If we stopped feeding edible grain to animals, we 
could still produce around half the current global meat supply with 
no loss to human nutrition: in fact it's a significant net gain.

It's the second half - the stuffing of animals with grain to boost 
meat and milk consumption, mostly in the rich world - which reduces 
the total food supply. Cut this portion out and you would create an 
increase in available food which could support 1.3 billion people. 
Fairlie argues we could afford to use a small amount of grain for 
feeding livestock, allowing animals to mop up grain surpluses in good 
years and slaughtering them in lean ones. This would allow us to 
consume a bit more than half the world's current volume of animal 
products, which means a good deal less than in the average western 
diet.

He goes on to butcher a herd of sacred cows. Like many greens I have 
thoughtlessly repeated the claim that it requires 100,000 litres of 
water to produce every kilogram of beef. Fairlie shows that this 
figure is wrong by around three orders of magnitude. It arose from 
the absurd assumption that every drop of water that falls on a 
pasture disappears into the animals that graze it, never to 
re-emerge. A ridiculous amount of fossil water is used to feed cattle 
on irrigated crops in California, but this is a stark exception.

Similarly daft assumptions underlie the UN Food and Agriculture 
Organisation's famous claim that livestock are responsible for 18% of 
the world's greenhouse gas emissions, a higher proportion than 
transport. Fairlie shows that it made a number of basic mistakes. It 
attributes all deforestation that culminates in cattle ranching in 
the Amazon to cattle: in reality it is mostly driven by land 
speculation and logging. It muddles up one-off emissions from 
deforestation with ongoing pollution. It makes similar boobs in its 
nitrous oxide and methane accounts, confusing gross and net 
production. (Conversely, the organisation greatly underestimates 
fossil fuel consumption by intensive farming: its report seems to 
have been informed by a powerful bias against extensive livestock 
keeping.)

Overall, Fairlie estimates that farmed animals produce about 10% of 
the world's emissions: still too much, but a good deal less than 
transport. He also shows that many vegetable oils have a bigger 
footprint than animal fats, and reminds us that even vegan farming 
necessitates the large-scale killing or ecological exclusion of 
animals: in this case pests. On the other hand, he slaughters the 
claims made by some livestock farmers about the soil carbon they can 
lock away.

The meat-producing system Fairlie advocates differs sharply from the 
one now practised in the rich world: low energy, low waste, just, 
diverse, small-scale. But if we were to adopt it, we could eat meat, 
milk and eggs (albeit much less) with a clean conscience. By keeping 
out of the debate over how livestock should be kept, those of us who 
have advocated veganism have allowed the champions of cruel, 
destructive, famine-inducing meat farming to prevail. It's time we 
got stuck in.


http://www.alternet.org/story/149601/why_i_stopped_being_a_vegetarian?page=entire

Comment Is Free / By Jenna Woginrich

Why I Stopped Being a Vegetarian

I had a serious change of heart, and it happened when I realized my 
aversion to meat wasn't solving the animal welfare problem I was 
protesting about.

January 19, 2011

I was a vegetarian for a long time - the bulk of my adult life, 
actually. When I realised how most of the steaks got to my plate (and 
how pumped-full of antibiotics and growth hormones they were), I put 
down my fork and took a vow to never be a part of that system again. 
My research into the brutal American factory farm system and its 
effects on the environment was a life-changing stumble down into the 
rabbit hole; I discovered a twisted world of assembly-line death 
camps, crippled animals, radiated carcasses and festering diseases. I 
don't have to get into the specifics, but clearly it wasn't a 
compassionate way to get my suggested 46 grams of protein a day. So I 
stopped eating meat, cold Tofurkey.

Nearly a decade later I'm no longer a vegetarian. In fact, I couldn't 
be further from the produce aisle. Nowadays I own and operate a small 
farm where I raise my own chicken, pork, lamb, rabbit, turkey and 
eggs. I had a serious change of heart, and it happened when I 
realised my aversion to meat wasn't solving the animal welfare 
problem I was protesting about. My beef, after all, wasn't with beef. 
It was with how the cow got to my plate in the first place. One way 
to make sure the animals I ate lived a happy, respectable life was to 
raise them myself. I would learn to butcher a free-range chicken, 
raise a pig without antibiotics and rear lambs on green hillside 
pastures. I would come back to meat eating, and I would do it because 
of my love for animals.

Every meal you eat that supports a sustainable farm changes the 
agricultural world. I cannot possibly stress this enough. Your fork 
is your ballot, and when you vote to eat a steak or leg of lamb 
purchased from a small farmer you are showing the industrial system 
you are actively opting out. You are showing them you are willing to 
sacrifice more of your paycheck to dine with dignity. As people are 
made more aware of this beautiful option, farmers are coming out in 
droves to meet the demand. Farmers markets have been on a rapid rise 
in the US thanks to consumer demand for cleaner meat, up 16% in the 
last year alone.

It's a hard reality for a vegetarian to swallow, but my veggie 
burgers did not rattle the industry cages at all. I was simply 
avoiding the battlefield, stepping aside as a pacifist. There is 
nobility in the vegetarian choice, but it isn't changing the system 
fast enough. In a world where meat consumption is soaring, the 
plausible 25% of the world's inhabitants who have a mostly vegetarian 
diet aren't making a dent in the rate us humans are eating animals. 
In theory, a plant-based diet avoids consuming animals but it 
certainly isn't getting cows out of feedlots. However, steak-eating 
consumers choosing to eat sustainably raised meat are. They chose to 
purchase a product raised on pasture when they could have spent less 
money on an animal treated like a screwdriver.

"There is a fundamental difference between cows and screwdrivers. 
Cows feel pain and screwdrivers do not." Those are the words of 
Temple Grandin, the famed advocate responsible for making the meat 
industry aware of animal suffering. But how many of us consumers 
think of that steak in the plastic wrap next to the breakfast cereal 
and laundry detergent as just another object? A product as 
characterless as a screwdriver? We seem to be caught in a parted sea 
of extremes when it comes to how we see food - either we're adamant 
about where our food comes from, or completely oblivious. I don't 
think the world needs to convert into a society of vegans or 
sustainable farmers, but we do need to live in a world where beef 
doesn't just mean an ingredient; it means a life loss. I never 
thought of my beans or hummus like that. Now every meal is seasoned 
with the gratitude of sacrifice. For me, it took a return to 
carnivory to live out the ideals of vegetarianism. Food is a 
complicated religion.

It may mean spending more money, but the way small farmers raise 
their sheep, goats, cattle and hogs on pasture is the polar opposite 
of those cruel places where animals are treated like a cheap protein 
and "quality" is a measure of economic algorithms, not life. If 
cruelty is bad for business, business will simply have to change. 
When consumers demand a higher quality of life from the animals they 
eat, feedlots will become a black stain of our agricultural past.

I'm sorry my vegetarian friends, but it's time to come back to the 
table. You can remain in the rabbit hole and keep eating your salad, 
but the only way out for good is to eat the rabbit.

Jenna Woginrich is a former urbanite, shepherdess and current farm 
writer. She writes the blog Cold Antler Farm and is the author of the 
book, Made From Scratch: Discovering the Pleasures of a Handmade Life.




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