Australian philosopher Peter Singer has been a champion of animal rights for more than 50 years.
His basic philosophical position has remained the same: the suffering of animals is just as important as the suffering of human beings. Pain is pain, whether it is in animals or humans. So, just as we think it is wrong to cause unnecessary pain and suffering in humans, it is wrong to cause the same in animals. To think otherwise is “speciesist”.
A prolific writer with more than 400 books and articles to his name, much of Singer’s work focuses on defending and developing this basic philosophical position. But he has also written books that are less concerned with philosophy, and more concerned with highlighting the suffering that animals undergo at the hands of humans.
His latest book, Consider the Turkey, examines the plight of birds bred on factory farms that end up on our tables over the festive period. It does not make for pleasant reading. Indeed, if you are thinking of having a turkey this year, it might well put you off. And that, I think, is the point of Singer’s little book.
At a little over 100 pages, it can be read in an afternoon. It does contain some philosophy towards the end, where Singer gives a sketch of his ethical views. It also contains a brief critique of the US tradition of the president “pardoning” a turkey at Thanksgiving, a brief account of the intelligence of turkeys, and a section containing some meat-free Christmas recipes.
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But the majority of Singer’s book is taken up by graphic and gruesome details about how turkeys are bred, live, and die. It is in these details that the power of the book lies.
As Singer himself says: “For many of you, by the time you have finished reading this book, no more ethical argument will be necessary. You will already know that what I describe is wrong.”
His book, then, is not supposed to be a rigorous ethical critique of how the Christmas turkey is treated. Rather it is supposed to draw our attention to, and educate us, about how they are treated. This, Singer thinks, will be enough to make many realise, without any further argument, that it is wrong. Presumably he also thinks this will be enough to persuade many readers to forgo their festive turkey dinner.
Is Singer right about this? Is his book successful? Well, consider just a few of the details he includes.
In chapter three we learn that male turkeys are routinely masturbated by workers to collect semen, as they have been bred so grotesquely large that natural mating is impossible. Female turkeys are then forcibly inseminated with syringes in a process so rough and invasive that they panic and struggle. To maintain a continuous supply of eggs to produce the next generation of birds this goes on every week for a year, after which the hens are “spent” and are “processed” (killed).
In chapter four we learn that once hatched, young turkeys have their beaks and toes cut off without anaesthesia, leaving them in acute pain. They often develop nerve tumours that cause lifelong suffering.
They are crammed into filthy, windowless sheds where they live their short lives in constant stress, sometimes unable to move without stepping on or colliding with other birds. By the time they are slaughtered, many have painful sores on their breasts from lying in their own waste or suffer from leg deformities that make walking agonising.
Their deaths are no less harrowing, Singer explains. Turkeys are hung upside down, shackled by their legs, and dipped into electrified water meant to stun them, though many remain conscious as their throats are slit. Others, in the case of disease outbreaks, are subjected to a procedure known as “ventilation shutdown plus”, where entire flocks are suffocated and roasted to death in overheated barns, often taking hours to die.
Singer’s book is not the first to give us harrowing details of the cruelty that humans inflict upon animals. That honour goes to An Essay on Humanity to Animals, published in 1798 by Thomas Young. Young gives a theological argument against mistreating animals, and describes a range of cruel practices that went on in his day, such as cockfighting, the beating of draft animals, and slaughter practices.
Other noteworthy examples in the same tradition include Ruth Harrison’s 1964 book Animal Machines, and Singer’s own Animal Liberation, published in 1975. But Consider the Turkey is a timely reminder that despite this long tradition, the cruelty goes on.
Philosophically, I disagree with at least some of Singer’s views. He believes that if two beings have exactly equal interests (such as equal interests in not suffering pain) then they deserve exactly equal treatment.
This commits him to the view that cruelty to animals is equally as bad as cruelty to human beings with the same interests, such as some with profound intellectual disabilities. And this I reject. In my view, it is morally worse to cause pain and suffering to human beings with profound intellectual disabilities than to animals, even if they do have an equal interest in not suffering pain.
But, one does not need to agree with all of Singer’s views to agree that the treatment he describes in his book is morally wrong, as I do.
So, if you were you thinking of having turkey this Christmas, were these brief details enough to make you feel queasy, or uncomfortable? If so, then there is no doubt the full horror of what Singer describes would be enough to make you seriously reconsider your choice.
If, however, you are totally unmoved by any of this, and entirely happy in spite of these details to gobble down a turkey dinner, then the rest of what Singer says is unlikely to have any effect.
I suspect that some readers will fall into the first category, and some into the second. But I also suspect that Singer will be happy enough with this. So long as his book convinces some to reconsider, it can be deemed successful. This is a book that is certainly worth an afternoon of your time.
Benjamin Curtis does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
