Enemize Me

Can't we all just get along? Apparently, NO!!

As some warn victory, some downfall

Private reasons great or small

Can be seen in the eyes of those that call

To make all that should be killed to crawl

While others say don't hate nothing at all

Except hatred.

- Bob Dylan, from “It's Alright, Ma (I'm Only Bleeding)”

There are millions, dear reader, perhaps billions of fellow human beings who absolutely hate and loathe you, along with everyone else who holds different beliefs than they do. Yes, I am sorry to say, not so inexplicably, that they detest sweet, lovable little you, and there is precisely nothing you can do to change that unpleasant fact. No matter who you are or what you believe, whole factions of fanatics, fundamentalists and otherwise seemingly friendly folks think you were Hell-spawned from Hitler himself...unless, of course, they happen to like Der Fuhrer, in which case I'd advise you to back away slowly and avoid direct eye contact if you meet such individuals face-to-face.

Think about it: there are even those who categorically abhor the Dalai Lama (Chinese government officials, for instance) for professing kindness, compassion and a desire for world peace. Yes, vast multitudes of people worldwide absolutely adore the guy as well, and he's certainly tough enough to handle any criticism aimed his way. Yet if even His Holiness has haters talking smack about him, even wishing death upon his head, then we all have to accept that none of us can escape the judgment — fair or unfair — of others.

Now, I have an important question to ask, perhaps the most important question that can be asked at this critical juncture in human history, and since it's such a huge one, I feel sort of unworthy to even bring it up. Nevertheless, instead of awkwardly hemming and hawing any longer I'm just gonna come right out with it, so here's the big question: What good is all this hatred doing us, and can we stop hating one another even though we essentially disagree about who's right and who's wrong, and what the whole point of life really is?

I'm asking this question because I really don't know — but would really like to know — the answer. In fact, I think we desperately need to figure this out as quickly as possible, because our hatred for one another is literally destroying us and our little home planet. This is serious business, so, as one human being to more than six billion others, I humbly and sincerely implore everyone — Republicans and Democrats, liberals and conservatives, Christians and atheists, Israelis and Palestinians, and people of all nations and creeds — to resolve their personal and collective hatreds before it's too late, and our species (along with millions of others) has vanished from the Earth forever.

I mean, come on people — would ya freaking grow up already?! The clock's ticking, and it's way past time to cut the shit and stop killing each other for disagreements over ideas, theories, beliefs, lifestyles, and politics! Let's end the wars over religion, race, imperialism, ancient grievances, and gasoline! We need to respect all forms of sentient life and dismantle the animal death factories where billions are sacrificed at the altar of corporate consumerism! Quit it already with the goddamn hatred and violence, and get over yourselves so we can finally focus on finding real solutions instead of creating more problems!!

And if you don't, I'm gonna come over there and personally kick your ass from here to eternity.

OK, just kidding about that last part, not only because I realize how ironically paradoxical it is to threaten the cessation of violence with yet more violence, but especially because it's an empty threat that I cannot possibly carry out. The fact that I'm redonculously out of shape and have no appreciable fighting skills makes it (and/or me) an even bigger joke. So please, go ahead and feel perfectly free to laugh it up at my expense.

But if, by some awful miracle, I did acquire awesome superpowers, I'd be hard pressed not to mercilessly beat down all you thugs, assassins, torturers, power-mad dictators, and assorted douchebags who are too caught up in your own self-centered trauma-driven drama to feel sympathy for your victims. I'd have to mightily resist the temptation to eradicate your very existence (that's right, using deadly force) because, like you, I'm not nearly as evolved as my hero, the seemingly superhuman Dalai Lama.

I'm certainly not done with this subject yet — not by a long shot — because I still have a lot of anger (and hatred, even) boiling inside of me and it seems everyone else also struggles with these difficult demons on some level and to whatever degree, so there's a lot more to say about it. For the moment, I will leave you with one final thought to ponder, which is this: As passionately convinced as you are that your beliefs are the only correct ones, so are most others equally sure that they alone are right — regardless of what their beliefs actually are.

In fact, those who most violently attack others, in word and/or deed, for being different are typically the most certain and emphatic that what they believe is the unassailably sacred Truth, and are also particularly prone to espousing the most extreme beliefs. Yet any honest and objective assessment of the world as it is leads one to the unavoidable conclusion that reality is far too complex to be encompassed by a single belief system (be it social, cultural, political, spiritual, or otherwise), and that those who believe it is or can be are (strictly speaking) delusional.

So, as an experiment, why not try expanding your parameters by aligning your perceptions (as best you can) with reality? Sure, your consciousness may start to crack, but that is probably a good thing, for encompassing a wider view of the universe yields far richer rewards than confining one's mind to a cage of concrete certainty. You'll also probably notice that the things we all share in common are much greater than the differences which separate us, and that what we hate about others often turns out to be the very parts of ourselves that we're struggling to deny.
 

If I've managed to blow your mind even a tiny bit, then my work here is done...for now! But I'll be back soon with another exciting episode about anger and hatred as it specifically relates to animal rights activists: that is, why so many people seem to hate us, and why many of us have been unable or unwilling to resolve our anger towards the human race. So, until then, remember to stay cool — and play nice!

Preemptive Redemption

Confessions of a reverse-speiciesist

Elementally, undeniably, part of my personality conforms to the stereotype of the angry vegan who harbors a darkly cynical judgment of humanity as a class of beings who continually inflict a generally genocidal assault on our fellow planetarians. I always assume that anyone who carries the traumatic awareness of all the blood we humans spill, all the carnage and corpses we sweep aside in our pursuit of “progress,” also feels some form of this soul-penetrating outrage and shares my sense of encroaching doom. And, when writhing most bitterly in the throes of obsessive despair, it's typically not difficult to find a few friends of like mind who will readily agree that, yes, human beings do indeed suck – and hard.

But I must clarify that not all vegans have the same negative assessment of our species, and also that I recognize how unhealthy, futile, and counterproductive human-hating ultimately is. I am glad to say that I have met numerous animal rights advocates who temper their steely vision with a positive attitude of acceptance, and resolve to work for a more peaceful, compassionate world. It is their example of fortitude and effectiveness that makes me think I need to process my anger differently in order to change myself, and that only through such a spiritual transformation can I truly reach out to those who need to understand – and come to terms with my own existence as a member of the human species.

It's not like I don't already try, and readily admit to struggling every day to mediate between the warring factions of my psyche. I do sometimes experience brief moments or minutes of clarity when I feel an internal détente has been reached – an integrated state of calmly excited semi-transcendental awareness when distorted distinctions disappear and I can see myself and the world from a more balanced universal perspective. But such respite is temporary, for inevitably, the fierce drama and debate within reassert themselves anew, and I find myself once again a conscripted contortionist uncomfortably twisting in the gymnastics of confusion.

These days, I rarely raise the issue of humanity's inhumanity in polite society (i.e., among non-vegans). I've been told more than once in different ways that “humans are more important than animals, so people come first” – as though mechanically massacring animals were intrinsic to our species' survival. What most people don't seem to see is that human and animal suffering are directly interrelated (especially under modern industrialization), and that working for one liberation cause means you are also supporting other related causes.

Yet I remain silent because the chasm between our paradigms is just too wide to bridge, and to tell the truth, I've been too often disappointed by people who continue to place their pleasure and convenience ahead of animals' lives. When I first started writing about animal rights issues, I naively assumed that people would read my carefully-worded, impeccably-constructed arguments and have some sort of cosmic life-altering revelation (like I did upon reading John Robbins). In the intervening years, that has proved (very clearly) not to be the case, so I have come to sort of accept and expect that most others (even friends and family) will probably never take my writing seriously enough to end their participation in the slaughter – no matter how much or how well I write.

Part of my disillusionment as a vegan, activist, and writer is the apparently intractable way people think about their lives. This can often translate into anger with humanity in general for failing to make more compassionate and less harmful choices. I am reluctant to let that anger show much anymore because that only fosters resentment, while making it harder to have a positive effect on others. So I try to channel the energy of righteous fury into my work, but I also internalize a lot of guilt, turning the anger upon myself for supposedly not doing enough and engaging in self-destructive habits.

Reality can be painful to bear, and though my imagination encompasses a great deal of the inescapable horror that billions of beings must endure, I do not fully grasp the scale and extent of worldwide suffering. Unlike many, I have a high tolerance for images of violence – I can watch disturbing animal rights videos and still go on with my day – but I also want to turn away sometimes, and escape from the agony of empathy into mundane pursuits and daydreams. Yet I realize that hellish reality is always happening somewhere, every moment, and that even though my life is pretty comfy, I cannot really rest easy when there is so much bloodletting.

It is events of the current presidential race that made me want to write about preemptive redemption. With the candidates (especially Obama) facing criticism and controversy for their past associations and their characters, I feel a need to clarify where I stand vis-à-vis my human allegiance. There is also a parallel between this charge and that which is often leveled against “liberals” during the Bush Era: that we hate America merely because we disagree with the direction our leaders have taken us. That is, just as I fear and loathe liars like Bush but still love my country, rejecting humanity’s enslavement of animals does not mean I hate humans – in fact, I want us to better ourselves by respecting ourselves and other species.

And to call myself a “reverse-speciesist” implies that I put animals' interests ahead of humans', but that is something of a self-misrepresentation, as our interests are closely interdependent and for the most part mutually reconcilable. It would be more accurate to call myself an anti-speciesist, because I believe in fundamental rights for all animals – and because humans are actually animals (made, incidentally, of meat), it would be speciesist to condemn us on the basis of our species. Ideally, I strive to accord the same basic level of respect to human beings that I give so readily to non-human animal beings.

Despising humanity's murderous behavior is completely different from despising humanity – much like hating the sin, not the sinner. I abhor and condemn the mass-exploitation of animals and people that takes place constantly in our world, and will continue to write against the system that anthropocentrically markets atrocity. Those of you who interact with me personally may be relieved to know that, as I engage in this ongoing effort, I intend to find more potent ways of effecting change than incessantly complaining about how much humans suck.