How To Speak Non-Vegan | Effective Activism [SPEECH]

Ric Allport:
Okay folks, I'm going to actually admit to

being a bit of a fanboy here, because I follow
Emily and I think she is absolutely amazing.

Emily is an animal-liberation activist, educator,
international speaker, and the founder of

the nonprofit Bite Size Vegan, where she creates
free, educational videos, essays, reports

and resources, covering issues impacting our
environment, public and individual health,

and the rights of all sentient beings.

Today Emily will address the sheer power of
language and how to walk the line of staying

firm in your convictions and uncompromising
in your message while still helping people

lower their guard enough to listen, hear,
and make the connection.

Please give Emily a mighty big round of applause.

Thank you.

Thank you so much.

It's funny—that introduction makes it sound
like I know what I'm doing.

Don't get me wrong—I've come a long way
in my activism over the years, but I've yet

to ever feel like I've "got this down."

To be honest, the more I progress in my activism,
the less surefooted I feel.

This may sound odd given that I'm here to
talk about how to increase the effectiveness

of your activism, but in many ways my perpetual
uncertainty is actually one of my greatest

strengths.

And as counter-intuitive as it may seem, I
hope that today I leave you a little more

uncertain of yourself as well.

You see, uncertainty spurs consideration and
forethought—thinking before we act; watching

what we say.

As activists, our language choices can be
our greatest asset, or our most self-defeating

liability.

When we're not mindful of our approach, we
risk not only failing to communicate our message,

but—even more troubling—communicating
another message entirely.

If you're new to activism, increasing your
level of uncertainty may sound like the last

thing you want to do—you may feel up to
your eyeballs in uncertainty.

If you're anything like me, you desperately
want to know the right thing to say to reach

non-vegans—and you want it to be clear,
simple, and universally-applicable: a set

template for effective activism.

I'll let you know upfront that I don't have
that to offer—I spent decades trying to

figure out how to talk about veganism, awkwardly
fumbling about, and never finding the "holy

grail" for effective activism.

What I have found, through much trial and
(mostly) error, is the value of not having

a set approach—of remaining perpetually
uncertain.

In this respect, those of you who are brand
new to activism actually have an advantage

over experienced activists—you're not yet
set in your ways, maybe not yet comfortable

with what to say.

If you are an experienced activist, by now
perhaps it's not so much figuring out what

to say, but rather how to find the energy
to keep saying it.

Perhaps you've reached a point of exasperation
and exhaustion from pouring everything you

have into reaching people only to feel like
you're hitting a wall.

Regardless of where you're at in your activism,
I hope to help you more effectively communicate

your message.

Before we even consider our approach, we need
to understand—as best we can—the nature

of what we’re dealing with.

There's nothing quite like our species' seemingly
hard-wired resistance to anything having to

do with veganism—it defies all logic and
common sense, is present in every country,

class, race, culture—even century.

When we proceed under the assumption that
it’s just a matter of people getting the

facts, we set ourselves up for a great deal
of running in place; when we ascribe people’s

resistance or outright denial to their lack
of intelligence or simple stubbornness, we

can all-too-easily dismiss them entirely.

But one need only observe how many well-educated,
intelligent individuals make it into adulthood

believing that cows spontaneously make milk—defying
all mammalian physiology—to know this is

not a matter of intelligence.

Understanding this allows us to shift our
perspective—what we may have seen as the

reasons our message was rejected now become
guideposts to better inform our approach.

And rather than focusing so intensely on WHAT
to say, we can turn our attention to HOW we’re

saying it—because it’s the HOW that can
make all the difference.

To best illustrate the points I'll be addressing,
I need to first offer some background regarding

my own process and journey.

As I've already said, I spent the majority
of my life desperately struggling to find

the words to talk about veganism.

In recent years, as Bite Size Vegan grew and
I began to receive tangible evidence of my

work's impact, with incredible testimonials
of change from around the world, I found that

my confidence remained just as—if not more—shaky.

No matter how many videos I make, speeches
I give, or people I speak with—each and

every one is like starting all over again
from the ground up, always with the renewed

panic of having no idea what to say.

The majority of my life, I've seen this lack
of confidence as some inherent personal fault,

and my admittedly neurotic level of consideration
before speaking or acting to be perfectionism

run wild.

Even as a one-year-old, despite my mother’s
persistent encouragement to “use my words,”

I insisted on pointing and grunting at things
that I wanted.

It's not that I didn't know the words—I
was afraid to say anything at all until I

could execute a full sentence, and do so correctly.

It’s only now, decades later, that I’ve
come to understand that my hesitation and

careful forethought prior to speaking, and
panicked need to further study the appropriate

parameters and protocols of human interactions,
were not the presumed neurotic perfectionism

and lack of confidence I’d spent the greater
part of my life trying to overcome, but rather

necessary survival mechanisms common in Autistic
children—especially girls.

We become, essentially, child anthropologists.

Many Autistics—myself included—describe
feeling like they were born on the wrong planet

entirely.

Nothing makes you appreciate the gravity and
sheer power of language quite like being unable

to effectively navigate the dominant method
of communication.

Just ask any traveler who's having to simultaneously
navigate a foreign language while also carefully

considering cultural nuances in body language,
gesture, and tone.

It's a lot to deal with all at once, and takes
ample intellectual processing of countless

factors that natives aren't even conscious
of—just think of the last time you had to

run through a verb's conjugation in your head
before speaking.

Similarly, Autistics have to process intellectually
the countless co-occurring non-verbal cues

of communication that the vast majority of
our species does in milliseconds on a subconscious

level.

Essentially, my process for communicating
with non-vegans effectively in my educational

activism involves the same careful analysis,
painfully arduous choice of precise language,

and discernment of the approach best suited
for a specific audience and set of circumstances,

that I’ve had to navigate from my very first
words.

In many ways, new vegans are thrust into aspects
of the Autistic experience—at least as I

know it.

With their blinders now off, they're suddenly
inundated with sensory overload, acutely and

painfully aware of the extreme exploitation
and cruelty all around them.

They are no longer able to look at a glass
of milk without hearing the anguished cries

of a mother whose baby has been torn from
her side.

And they find they're unable to explain themselves
to those around them.

It’s almost like the second that we step
onto “the vegan side,” the non-vegan mentality

that we’ve had our entire lives is suddenly
incomprehensible.

I cannot count how many times I've received
emails and messages from even hard-core meat-eaters

who made the connection—but their spouse
had not.

So they reach out to me—essentially a complete
stranger—for advice: How do they talk to

this person whom they’ve known for years?

How do they cope when their loved one refuses
to see the truth?; when they continue to eat

what is now so clearly the murdered body of
an innocent being?

How do they deal with the heartbreak of loving
someone they no longer understand?

They've somehow lost the ability to navigate
the non-vegan lexicon, left uncertain of what

to say.

This parallel to my life-long struggle to
communicate has actually put me in a unique

position of helping vegans learn to “use
their words” all over again, because now

they have to think about language and approach
communication like an Autistic.

Before getting into some concrete examples
and case studies, I'm going to briefly outline

the basics of this in regards to vegan activism.

Every time I'm researching and writing, I
consider my audience, my message and my purpose;

that is, I try to keep in mind whom I’m
trying to reach, what message I’m trying

to reach them with, and what it is that I’m
trying to accomplish.

Of course, it's impossible for any of us to
know every aspect of our audience or the situation,

but these kinds of considerations can help
us craft our message to be as effective as

possible for our intended audience.

I want to emphasize that this is not about
pandering nor equivocating—compromising

the truth in order to make veganism seem more
palatable is one of the most dangerous pitfalls

we'll be exploring.

In navigating language within animal rights
activism, education and advocacy, there are

countless potential pitfalls, distractions,
diversions, and counterproductive "traps."

Perhaps in our efforts to make veganism “approachable,”
we compromise our convictions and soften our

ethics.

Perhaps in order to “wake people up,”
we become aggressive and polarizing—we wonder

how they’re not “getting it” when to
us it is so painfully clear.

Somehow, despite all our efforts, our message
gets “lost in translation,” and the gap

in communication widens.

I've heard countless debates between vegan
activists regarding whether to take a softer

or firmer approach; this false dichotomy is
itself a diversion within which we can easily

become lost.

The real challenge is walking the line of
staying firm in our convictions and uncompromising

in our message while still helping people
lower their guard enough to listen, hear,

and make the connection.

As we delve into a few concrete examples,
a common theme of intensive research will

emerge.

Of course in-depth investigation can be tedious
and definitely time-consuming—trust me,

I often wish I could toggle off my own uncertainty—my
inability too take anything at face value,

or to assume that I already know.

But there is a distinct advantage to the time-suck
of investigating for yourself.

The learning process when doing your own research
is significantly different than when regurgitating

or repurposing things others have said—you
not only have the facts, but also the investigative

path or information trail you followed to
get tom them.

Rather than simply listing off statistics,
or telling someone that their life-long beliefs

are lies, you're able to meet people at a
starting place of familiarity and common ground,

progressively following the trail of information
as you discovered it, presenting the facts

along the way such that they may digest them
step-by-step.

This is an incredibly useful approach for
any kind of education—it manages to be both

non-confrontational and non-compromising.

You're sharing what you've learned and how
you've learned it rather than dictating what's

true.

By not provoking defensiveness, people can
lower their guards and absorb and process

the information they are receiving.

No watering down or couching in euphemistic
niceties, no offers of partial change as more

"palatable" options than going vegan.

Real truth with real reception.

Now let's go over some examples of problematic
language and self-defeating approaches.

I personally find that the most dangerously
appealing pitfalls are those that appear to

be effective communication tactics.

A major approach within the vegan movement
is focusing on the social normalization of

veganism—making a vegan lifestyle accessible,
affordable, easy—even mainstream.

This is a very logical tactic, especially
when considering that one of the strongest

deterrents to going vegan is social ostracism
and rejection from family and friends.

The accessibility of veganism is something
about which I am intensely passionate—it's

one of the foundational aspects of Bite Size
Vegan.

However, in attempting to “bridge the gap”
and meet the general public where they’re

at, there exists the risk of reducing the
ethical imperative of veganism to a socially

acceptable lifestyle choice—even offering
gradations of change that amount to acceptable

and endorsed levels of cruelty.

This is why it's so vital that we be mindful
of our language choices as activist, lest

we end up advocating the very things we are
fighting against.

Nothing embodies this more than the “humane”
movement.

Humane language and concepts have easily gained
a stronghold by appealing to all sides—for

the vegan afraid of coming across as militant
or extreme, they provide a less intimidating

suggestion to offer: “Meat-Free Mondays,"
“Local Free-Range Eggs”; for activists

fighting for animal liberation, they give
the possibility of better conditions, progress

towards the ultimate goal; and certainly for
the non-vegan, who now has a way to keep doing

what they want to do, but feel good about
it.

Any impetus for going vegan vanishes—why
risk social isolation and brave the discomfort

of change when you can keep eating animals
not only without nagging concerns, but actually

with assurance that you're improving their
treatment, helping the environment, and bettering

your health.

The REAL problem is the big factory farms—thank
goodness you now eat responsibly.

Now you may think this is a rather pessimistic
interpretation of what could be a stepping

stone towards real change—affording at the
very least a modicum of improvement in conditions.

I understand the allure of this line of thinking—we
activists are not immune to the seductive

appeal of humane rhetoric.

But it's vital that we not take anything on
face value—our responsibility lies with

those enslaved, not the comfort of their captors
or ourselves.

Just as we encourage others to confront the
truth and question what they know, we must

do the same.

Though we may feel that our eyes are already
open, we must actively strive for uncertainty.

It's my own uncertainty that drove me deep
into humane legislation when researching for

a speech I delivered in Dublin, Ireland.

Ireland is a powerful case study—it's essentially
the humane concept embodied in country form.

Cows graze outside in picturesque fields,
lending support to the common refrain that

"it's not like that here."

And by all appearances and accounts, it's
not.

Even after some digging, I only found a single
undercover video of abuse.

Ireland is a part of the European Union, which,
in the Treaty of Lisbon signed in 2007, historically

declared non-human animals legally sentient—deserving
freedom from hunger, thirst, discomfort, pain,

injury, disease, fear, distress and mental
suffering.

Having recognized their capacity to feel the
same emotions and sensations as we do, the

EU proceeded to draft legislation specifying
the exact manner in which we may legally violate,

imprison, cut, burn, alter, and murder them.

The resulting Council Regulation, entitled
"on the protection of animals at the time

of killing" was and is viewed—even by animal
activists—as a major step forward, a victory

for animals.

For those of us living in countries without
such regulations, it's natural to think that

the systematic abuse of farmed animals results—at
least in large part—from the total lack

of oversight.

For example, in the United States, there are
no federal laws governing the treatment of

farmed animals.

I've seen activists and organizations list
the mutilations and atrocities routinely committed

within the food industry in the US, stressing
the need for regulations—often pointing

to the EU as a prime example.

But if you actually read through the EU's
groundbreaking, landmark legislation and its

supplemental documents, you will find that
very same list of mutilations and atrocities

not decried, but codified.

So instead of baby chicks being ground up
alive because there are no regulations to

stop it, they're ground up alive because regulations
declare it to be the preferred method for

male chick disposal.

There are even detailed specifications for
blade speed and sharpness to avoid "gumming

up" the works.

After digging for a few months, I finally
found the documents explaining the decision

process; (and I'm going to be quoting here
from the legislation documents) they found

that while gassing the estimated "335 million
day old male chicks" killed in the EU annually

"would amount [to a]...cost [of] 1,665,000
Euros," the costs of using "rotating or whirling

knives which are mincing the chicks in a split
second...can be considered not to be substantial."

Meaning the decision had nothing to do with
what was most humane: it was simply a matter

of what was the cheapest.

This is echoed throughout the document—each
and every method of murder broken down to

a financial transaction.

Unsurprisingly, the impact assessment panel
assembled by the EU for this legislative "victory

of animal rights" included meat, dairy and
egg industry representatives and Butina, the

global manufacturer of the gas chambers determined
to be the preferred method for slaughtering

pigs.

It’s the absurdity of murderers deciding
how they get to murder.

This is what we're point to as evidence of
progress—as an example to strive for.

We must be mindful of what we're advocating.

It was actually the actions of Australian
activists that spurred me to dig so fervently

for these documents.

The EU legislation recommended phasing out
the use of the carbon dioxide chambers for

pigs, but said “the impact assessment revealed
such recommendations were not economically

viable at present.”

I'd yet been able to locate this assessment.

I later had the pleasure of interviewing activists
from Animal Liberation Victoria and Animal

Liberation New South Wales about their undercover
work filming inside the gas chambers, and

subsequent action shutting down operations
in one slaughterhouse by chaining themselves

in the chambers.

The footage they obtained shook me to my core,
and I continue to utilize it in the video

portion of every speech I give.

I became determined to find the documents
explaining why the EU still recommended the

chambers, finally finding the assessment which
revealed that Butina—the chamber manufacturers—was

on the panel.

As you may well know, since 2005 Australia
has been in the process of shifting from "Model

Codes of Practice"—essentially non-binding
suggestions with state-by-state interpretation,

as far as I understand—towards "nationally
consistent standards and guidelines."

From what I gather, it's proving to be a rather
prolonged, extensive, and tedious process—in

the past 13 years, they've covered cattle
and sheep.

When it comes to finding solid documentation,
you're at an advantage in Australia as there

are ample resources already made available
by activists and organizations.

The information is out there—and more readily
so than many countries.

Use these as a starting point for your own
research.

I encourage you to dive into the small print
of your state's regulations, the proposed

Australian Animal Welfare Standards and Guidelines,
and any reports and documents from the industries

themselves.

These are incredibly effective advocacy tools
because they describe the "ideal" and have

the most vested interest in portraying practices
in the best light.

This is an approach I took with my Ireland
speech—presenting the information put forth

by their own agricultural industries, government,
and the EU.

This not only helped defuse the potential
defensive charge of some random American YouTuber

coming over to tell them what their country
was like, but also allowed me to show that

even the ideal—which is of course never
met—was absolutely horrifying.

A ways into the talk's introductory portion,
I informed my audience that:

"The facts I’ll present today are not of
my own creation—I’ve sourced them from

primarily Irish governmental and industry
documents, the European Union, and many, many

others."

And stated that they didn't even have to believe
me, as I'd be providing a link to a full transcript

of the talk with citations for every fact,
a bibliography and additional resources.

I include a link to such a resource page in
every talk I give—with today being no exception.

This not only provides opportunity for further
learning, but also removes the significant

potential barrier of requiring someone to
trust in me personally on issues about which

they're already guarded.

Now that we've looked briefly at laying introductory
groundwork to help an audience lower their

guards, I'll share an example of presenting
the stark contrast between the "humane hype"

surrounding legislation, and the reality of
its effect on the individuals themselves.

I'm now quoting from my Ireland speech:

"The vast majority of the world’s more than
7 billion layer hens spend their abbreviated

lives in cramped battery cages, unable to
even extend their wings.

Now you may have heard the big fuss about
the European Union’s groundbreaking directive

set in 1999 banning “barren battery cages”
by 2012.

From the media coverage, you’d think EU
layer hens are living in luxury.

But as we’re seeing with humane regulations,
the devil is truly in the details.

In reality, the directive merely replaced
barren battery cages with “enriched"—meaning

furnished—battery cages.

Reports extolled how hens would now be afforded
750cm^2 each, neglecting the legislation’s

clarification that only 600 of these would
be usable—meaning that, in the end, this

most “revolutionary” advancement for the
rights of layer hens granted them each an

additional 50cm^2.

Understanding the true impotence of this legislation
makes its pathetic implementation all the

more baffling.

In 2012, nine countries told the European
Commission that their farmers would not meet

the deadline for conversion, with four additional
countries saying it was unlikely they’d

be ready.

These thirteen countries had over 12 years
to grant the laying hens they enslave a meager

50cm^2.

And all the while the media celebrates the
victory for animal welfare, the public eats

more and more eggs, reassured by their higher
standards; and the individuals this entire

charade is supposed to be for remain just
as exploited."

Within this passage, I covered a great deal
of information in just a handful of sentences—it's

not uncommon for hours, days or even months
of research to amount to a sentence or two

in the final script.

I'll take a moment to unpack some of the choices
I made in this section of the talk in regards

to the three basic considerations of audience,
message, and purpose.

As I mentioned earlier, I'd already laid extensive
groundwork by this point, progressing slowly

and deliberately towards addressing specific
industries—given my audience and the cultural

considerations of Ireland—in addition to
my status as an outsider—I knew it was important

to have a lengthier and more cautious "disarming"
upfront.

I also mirrored this pattern within each new
topic area—so as I broached the topics of

eggs, I opened with the least emotionally-charged
area of Irish production statistics before

shifting to the manipulative and debilitating
breeding practices for maximum egg output,

finally coming to the question of living conditions—namely,
battery cages.

While battery cages remain standard in the
United States, I was aware through previous

research that they had been banned in the
EU, and I'd come across the media coverage

that my audience would have seen in the news.

The message I wanted to convey was that eggs
are never ethical.

My purpose—meaning what I wanted to accomplish—was
to preemptively quash any lingering doubts

or the ability to dismiss the facts I presented
in their entirety because "it's not like that

here."

So, that's the basic framework, however it
doesn't really capture one of the most significant

factors affecting how our message is delivered
and received: tone.

You may have noticed that my tone in this
passage was rather firm, even disgusted.

But it's important to note that my disgust
was not directed at my audience—quite the

opposite.

In presenting evidence of how they'd been
lied to and manipulated, I followed through

on my opening statements that they deserved
to know the truth, and that I was here to

present evidence for their consideration.

So rather than feeling judged or attacked
and becoming upset with me, I gave them space

to become upset about the lies they've been
told.

It's human nature to raise our guards when
we're on the defensive—we close off and

shut down.

It would seem logical as activists to avoid
upsetting our audience in order to keep their

receptivity open—however, this is a perfect
illustrative example of walking the line.

It's not about making sure not to upset anyone—if
they're grasping the truth, they should be

upset!

It's making sure that the push-back to the
truths we reveal are aimed at their rightful

sources, leading to constructive, well-deserved
outrage.

I've long believed that one of the main reasons
people don't go vegan is the immense pain

and guilt of accepting our part in horrific
atrocities.

Confronting the true impact of our choices
is incredibly daunting, so instead we shut

down, attack, or "bust forth" any number of
the standard—and, at times, bizarre—objections

you've no doubt heard countless times: lions,
desert islands, protein, and so forth.

So, the manner in which I presented the information
to my Irish audience additionally was intended

to supply a "buffer" of sorts to this guilt
through again providing a target for their

outrage other than themselves, sidestepping
shut-down and channeling their outrage to

action.

I do want to note that this does not absolve
guilt nor attempt to excuse participation

in exploitation—again, it's finding that
line of uncompromising ethics while keeping

guards down.

Never do I say it's okay to eat animals.

Never do I encourage a reduction of meat,
dairy or eggs.

I hope that reviewing this example has helped
illustrate the false dichotomy of our activism

needing to be either non-threatening to the
extent of essentially endorsing acceptable

gradations of cruelty, or aggressively confrontational
to the point of polarizing and alienating

the very people whom we're trying to reach.

While I've focused thus far on the perils
of pandering in well-meaning attempts to be

approachable, this doesn't mean the answer
is to swing to the other extreme.

A baffling way in which my brain functions
somehow allows me to see the "grey" where

most people perceive only black and white.

This is another way in which Autism presents
a gift through its profound challenges; while

non-autistics tend to be what's called "global
thinkers," Autistics tend to have difficulty

seeing the "big picture"—it's termed “weak
central coherence” in psychology.

While this leads to many challenges, as our
brains are inundated with information we're

unable to filter and prioritize, leading to
sensory overload, this hyper-focus into extreme

levels of detail also allows us to see and
make connections others may not.

Finally—for myself at least—because I
see details and minutia rather than global

summaries or generalizations, I've never expected
any one person to be definable as one thing

or another, and find that rarely is there
a pure dichotomy—an only "either A or B"—to

anything.

As with the previous examples of how the "softer"
approach of hedging can end up conveying the

opposite of the message we intend, I'll offer
an example of when a more confrontational

"in your face" approach can equally defeat
our intended goal.

When I decided to finally make a video about
halal and kosher slaughter—which was rather

daunting, to be honest—I found that the
topic seemed to be primarily addressed through

the use horrifying undercover footage taken
in halal and kosher slaughterhouses.

In the end, I chose not to include any graphic
footage in my video—but not for the reasons

you may think.

It wasn't in an effort to not upset my audience,
nor a judgement against the use of graphic

footage—I am, in fact, very passionate about
the importance of using undercover footage

in activism.

My primary reason for not using any footage
resulted from the same kind of investigative

research I undertook regarding humane legislation:
again, starting from ground zero, taking nothing

at face value.

Essentially, remaining completely and totally
uncertain.

I'll admit that out the outset, my impression
of halal and kosher slaughter was based only

on my surface encounters with the undercover
footage.

Like everyone else, I often have preconceived
notions and existing judgements—the trick

is recognizing them for what they are, lest
they hinder my ability to remain open—an

exercise in willful uncertainty.

Proceeding under the assumption that I didn't
really know a thing about halal and kosher

slaughter, I dove into the teachings and philosophies
behind the practices, searching for sources

written by and for Jewish and Muslim individuals—religious
texts, clergy documents, lay commentaries.

As many humane regulations contain specific
exceptions for ritual slaughter, with varying

degrees of oversight, there are numerous scientific
studies, reports and investigations into its

"humane-ness."

I reviewed what studies I could find, as well
as various governmental legislations.

Through my research, I found that the horrific
abuses captured in those videos were actually

gross violations—not examples—of halal
and kosher principles.

So, using the footage to illustrate the brutality
of halal and kosher slaughter would not only

be inaccurate, but actually defeat my own
purpose.

Looking at this again through the three considerations
of audience, message, and purpose: My primary

intended audience was individuals who follow
halal and kosher practices; my message was

that killing is never humane, kind, or holy;
and my purpose was to prompt a reconsideration

of these practices—ideally resulting in
the decision to go vegan—by taking a hard

look at ritual slaughter in order to evaluate
whether they are genuinely humane, merciful

practices.

Given the sensitive nature of religious and
cultural considerations, I knew it was all

the more vital that I be diligent in my research
and respectful in my approach—especially

given that I am neither Jewish nor Muslim.

If I wanted to reach people who partake in
ritual slaughter and I show them brutal footage

that is actually in violation of their principles,
what have I accomplished, other than demonstrating

my unwillingness to—at the very least—gain
an accurate understanding of these practices?

With the lack of actual discussion between
activists and practitioners, I found it all

the more important to draw attention to the
fact that—as is often the case—the seemingly

polar-opposite sides of this debate actually
aligned more than they differed Now I'm quoting

from the video I made:

"In fact, the values espoused by animal advocates
opposed to ritual slaughter are—according

to Jewish and Islamic leaders—the very basis
of halal and kosher practices.

But this potential common ground is rarely
explored as almost every public debate over

ritual slaughter arises from...footage exposing
the horrifically brutal treatment of animals

in halal and kosher slaughterhouses."

The truth is, most Jewish and Muslim individuals
are equally—if not more—outraged by the

violations in these videos.

But the ultimate result of their exposure
is almost always a call for better regulations

and stricter enforcement of halal and kosher
standards, leaving unanswered the question

of whether these methods—when carried out
as intended—are humane, and failing to address

the core of the humane slaughter debate as
a whole: is it even possible to end the life

of another being in a way that is kind?

If I used these videos, I'd not only bypass
the actual issues, but also, by so inaccurately

portraying an important aspect of their faith,
I'd close any door to discussion, much less

reconsideration.

I did include one piece of footage towards
the end of the video—explaining that "the

best way to answer whether ritual slaughter
is humane is by simple observation."

I played an example of ritual slaughter that
adhered to the traditions, still stopping

short of the actual cutting of the sheep's
throat and any visuals of blood.

What I wanted to emphasize and show was the
sheep's behavior prior to slaughter.

Even in the one-on-one environment, with the
slaughterer gently reciting prayers, offering

water, stating that it's vital that the animal
be at rest and comfortable, it was evident

the sheep was not a willing participant.

Following the clip, I shifted the focus from
all of the details and debates I'd covered

thus far, to where it should be: the individual.

Saying that:

"Ending the life of any sentient being prematurely
and against their will cannot possibly be

a humane or merciful act...

The assertion that this act is necessary,
thus justifying the lesser of the evils, is

one of the main rationalizations offered by
meat eaters, secular and religious alike."

With my intended audience in mind, I mentioned
verses in Jewish and Muslim religious texts

that support vegan principles—which I'd
covered in my series "The History of Veganism"—emphasizing

that no religion—Judaism and Islam included—mandates
the consumption of animals.

Finally, having navigated through the foundations
of these traditions, detailed the debates,

legislation, opinions, and studies, I re-focused
the issue entirely—because in the end, it's

not a religious issue, it's a human issue.

This is another purposeful approach I utilize
within my activism, especially when dealing

with divisive, inflammatory topics.

I first make sure to take the time to be as
respectful and accurate as possible, helping

my intended audience to lower their defensive
guards from the default "up" position.

Once I've "zoomed in" to sometimes granular
levels of detail, I "zoom back out" to what

is universally applicable: the human condition.

I'm now quoting again from the video:

"The myth of humane slaughter reaches beyond
any religion.

Humanity as a whole consistently strives to
excuse and justify the enslavement, torture,

and murder of sentient beings.

There’s a level of absurdity with how much
time, energy, detail, government money, and

paperwork goes into finding just the right
way to kill.

We point fingers at inexcusable abuse in other
countries, cultures, religions, and specific

companies, erupting in righteous outrage and
conveniently avoiding any assessment of our

own complicity in the deaths of the animals
on our plate."

Before closing, I want to touch on the use
of language and approach when presenting undercover

exposés.

As I mentioned, undercover footage is of vital
importance in the fight for animal liberation.

Our systematic exploitation of non-human animals
thrives in darkness—undercover footage shines

a light on these horrific realities, giving
voice to the victims.

Learning the truth is one thing—seeing it
is something else entirely.

However, just as the impact of what say depends
on how we say it, the impact of what we show

depends on how we frame and present it.

We don't have time to delve into this in depth,
but I'd like to draw attention to an issue

I've seen time and again in publicized accounts
of undercover exposés.

Let's take, for example, all of the times
undercover footage has captured workers—from

one country or another—tossing live baby
chicks into a grinder.

Every time, news outlets dramatically recount
the unbelievable cruelty.

And every time the public is appalled, outraged,
and disgusted.

They wonder how any person or industry could
be so barbaric.

And they continue to eat eggs, not realizing
that they have just answered their own question.

Ultimately, the message these exposés convey
to the public is contingent upon the manner

in which they are presented.

When codified, standard practice—like the
worldwide live-grinding of an estimated 3.2

billion baby chicks every year—is reduced
to a sensationalist media sound bite, it undermines

the power and necessity of exposing the truth.

Often, it's what’s not said in these exposés
that's the most damaging.

When we fail to explain and emphasize that
the horrors depicted in the videos are not

only legal, but actually government-sanctioned,
humane-legislation-dictated practices, we

leave the public with the impression that
this was an isolated incident—the result

of a few malicious, sociopathic workers.

Far from considering veganism, the public
is left thinking that "luckily, the perpetrators

were exposed and will surely be punished.

Thank goodness the eggs WE eat aren't contributing
to that kind of barbaric behavior."

A final example comes from an undercover investigation
at a pig breeding farm in Iowa—the state

in which I currently live.

I covered this more thoroughly in my essay
and video on bestiality.

Footage and detailed notes from the investigation
catalogued routine abuse of pregnant mother

pigs—including beating, kicking and violent
sexual violation.

Workers were also captured cutting off the
tails and tearing out the testicles of piglets,

all without any anesthetic—sometimes resulting
in scrotal hernias, causing the piglet's intestines

to protrude from the incision.

In one of the offenses most-cited by the media,
workers were shown slamming sick or deformed

piglets against the ground, leaving them to
die slowly, their “skull[s]-crushed...twitching

[and] gasping for air, as others were piled
on top of them in giant bins.”

Most of this talk, I've emphasized the power
and impact OUR language choices have in conveying

our message—but the language choices of
others also serve as invaluable teaching tools.

An NBC News article covering the Iowa exposé
included comments from Temple Grandin, described

as “a leading animal-welfare expert."

Referring to the abuses I've listed thus far,
Grandin was quoted as saying that "while those

are standard industry practices, the treatment
of the sows on the video was far from it,”

calling it “atrocious animal abuse.”

In my video, I pause to highlight the absurdity
of her statement.

I'm now quoting:

"Just to clarify—in case it wasn’t obvious—beating
and violating the mother pigs was the “atrocious

animal abuse.”

The 'standard industry practices' Grandin
refers to are the unanaesthetized mutilation

of newborn piglets and brutal slamming of
'defective' babies against concrete.

Not only are these practices legal, they are
government-sanctioned methods within, but

not limited to, the United States, Canada,
Australia and the European Union."

To drive home the illogicality of it all,
I added:

"See, that's the great thing about standard
practices—I don't know about you, but if

I was shown that video and asked what was
abuse and what was routine, I’d have gotten

it totally wrong!"

I hope that this talk has helped illustrate
the incredible power of language, given you

some ideas of how to walk in the grey, and
encouraged you to be at least a little more

uncertain in your activism, so that you may
approach each interaction, each individual,

each situation anew.

In essence, may you think a little more Autistically.

Thank you so very much for having me, I really
appreciate it.

[Applause]