A Peek Inside Cowdom

So maybe I didn’t read much Tolstoy in college. Maybe I went untutored in the fine points of Descartes and other philosophers. At least my academic career here at Cal Poly was not a complete waste. At least I got to stick my arm inside the stomach of a cow.

The animal in question was what is called a fistulated cow. It sported a tidy, and painless, porthole in one side. We searchers of higher knowledge were instructed by our animal science professor to snap on plastic gloves and stand in line. Then, one by one, we would plunge a hand through the hole and experience the juicy inner workings of the cow’s unique stomach system.

The exercise was intended to teach us how a cow can create “essential amino acids,” or proteins, found in beef. This is an important concept in cowdom. As the world fills with people who question the wisdom of a T-bone diet, beef producers must search for ways to promote their product as healthful. You say cholesterol; they say essential amino acids.

I happened to come to the fistulated cow already schooled in pro-beef arguments. My father worked in the feedlot industry, and at our dinner table there wasn’t much talk about colon cancer or the rape of rangelands. The family station wagon sported a bumper sticker: “Eat Beef and Stay Healthy.”

This rumination is triggered by a new book, “Beyond Beef.” Written by Jeremy Rifkin, the environmental activist, it’s a pretty clever rant. Rifkin blames cattle for wrecking the planet. He makes Oliver Stone look gullible, tracing a “beef culture” conspiracy back to Noah. It is culpable in everything from the potato famine to global warming. My man Descartes is indicted for promoting the theory of human dominion over animals, and Big Macs are linked to the loss of rain forests.

A good part of Rifkin’s venom is directed at a California invention: the modern feedlot. This state pioneered the process of systematically feeding out large numbers of cattle on grain--grain that Rifkin would donate to hungrier nations. A sweet concept, but hard to sell to crop loan officers.

John Lacey takes it personally when Rifkin writes about “marbled specks of death” and “hoofed locusts.” A fourth-generation rancher, Lacey is past president of the National Cattlemen’s Assn. and, found at his place just north of here, he presented a point-by-point defense of beef. Rain forest destruction is a byproduct of desperate Third World economies, not American tastes. Ranchers, all in all, are good stewards of the land. Methane from cattle causes just a tiny fraction of global warming, and the industry has taken big strides to clean itself from the days of Upton Sinclair. It was all calm, well-modulated stuff--until I asked, specifically, about Rifkin.

“Rifkin!” Lacey sputtered. “That Jeremy Rifkin is in a world by himself. . . . He is on a mission of destruction. . . . Why doesn’t he just go to China and eat rice? . . . They would love to be able to eat meat. . . . The biggest line in Russia is at McDonald’s.”

But enough of Rifkin and the rancher. Their debate has raged and will rage for decades. Besides, you paid 35 cents, you’re entitled to an opinion. And the way I see it, anyone serious about cleaning up the planet should concentrate first, not on cow pastures, but on the sewer systems we call cities. And while moderation is a good thing, in both beef and Beefeaters, I suspect the leading cause of cancer is worrying about the leading cause of cancer.

People like Rifkin seem to consider humankind one big environmental pileup. In that case, we are all guilty--how many trees died for Rifkin’s golden prose?--and should be sentenced to a life in caves and loincloths. I think, though, that things just sort of evolve--dinosaurs give way to buffalo, give way to cattle, etc. All we can do is keep watch so that we don’t booby-trap the planet with attempts at progress. By that test, I think Bossy beats the rap.

The moral argument is interesting. Are animals intended for our nourishment, or vice versa? Did Jesus eat barbecue? I don’t know, but watch out: To argue the other side eventually will lead you to a case of the guilts over green beans and asparagus.

Look, if people don’t want to eat meat, fine. They can microwave granola until the buffaloes come home. There’s no bumper sticker on my car. What bothers me most about Rifkin is not his point of view--he’s entitled--but his strident, and all too familiar, tone. He wants to control stomachs, just as others want to control wombs. Or vocabularies. Or libraries. You know where these politically correct cops are headed. If they could, they’d fistulate our brains, to see what was cooking inside. And that, I’m afraid, is what’s beyond beef.