4 minute read
Why Lions Don't Justify You Eating Meat
Why Lions Don't Justify You Eating Meat
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by Laura Maria Grierson
For some reason, the apex predator of the African savannah has become a role model for those who believe that humans eating meat is – and should remain – the natural order of things. But why do meat-eaters turn to lions to justify their eating habits, and is there any relevance to it?
Why is the Lion the Poster Child of Eating Meat?
Why the lion? For starters, there aren't really any predators larger than a fox in the UK, and a fox doesn’t have quite the same connotations: the British fox may prey on “vermin” such as rats and rabbits, but it’s also a scavenger, occasionally spied creeping through cities or going through bins. It’s hard to convey any gravitas with a fox, particularly when they are also considered “prey” in fox hunting. A lion, however, garners a lot more respect, not only in its hunting of six hundred pound zebras but also in how we perceive its very movements: the fox slinks, the lion strides. Even in their prey role as the victims of trophy hunting, they have the dignity of being stalked and shot by a human, a stark contrast to how the fox is harried over long distances and torn apart by other nonhuman animals.
Despite the trophy hunting, humans prefer to see themselves as the predator rather than the prey – to kill is preferable to
being killed, after all. But the lion is even more appealing to associate with due to its moniker “king of the jungle” and its regal connotations. More than that, the lion represents a gender dynamic that proponents of traditionalism are nostalgic for: the female prepares the food and rears the young, while the male struts around his harem, occasionally engaging in territorial violence. The lion is a reminder of a bygone age, the antimillennial standard.
Modelling a Lion’s Behaviour
The lion may seem a model of stately elegance and masculinity, perhaps in the style of a nineteenth century country gentleman, but it engages in behaviour that most of us – hopefully – would consider immoral. When a male lion takes control of a pride by killing or driving off the ruling male, he will also kill the young: this is to bring the females back into heat so that his own genetic line can be furthered. If we could consider any animal worth emulating, it’s unlikely that the lion would rank as a worthy role model – but why would we look to the animal kingdom for examples of morality? Animals exist in a situation where to kill is to survive, and to not kill is to starve to death. A lioness does not have the option of choosing a veggie burger, and it’s debatable whether she can comprehend a moral argument as humans can.
Contributing to the Ecosystem, Not Destroying It
Approximately 80% of lion cubs never make it to two years of age: they starve, are killed by usurping males, or are eaten by other predators such as hyenas or African hunting dogs. This is in bleak contrast to the human child, which is cared for and nurtured by an army of parents, doctors, dentists, social workers, and government guidelines. But these lion cubs exist (and die) to benefit the environment: their deaths feed other animals or simply prevent the lion population from growing out of hand, and when they reach adulthood they join the rest of the pack in culling the prey herds of the old, weak, and slow.
The human’s appetite for meat, however, is less considerate of the environment at large – it is, in fact, detrimental to it. Animal agriculture uses and pollutes vast reserves of water and is a leading contributor to global warming through the production of greenhouse gases and deforestation for grazing and feed (more so than the villain du jour, palm oil). Humans breed their “prey” specifically for slaughter, often denying them the natural behaviours of their species, and then transport them to a grisly conveyor belt slaughter en masse: over a billion land mammals a year meet their end in British slaughterhouses alone. The cages, the trucks, the concrete floor – they are all a far cry from the African grasslands.
The Biology of the Carnivore
But if we need to eat meat, then the deaths of a a billion living creatures (over eight billion if we include fish and shellfish) may be justified – after all, a lion has to kill to eat, however gruesome the act may be.
A lion is classified as a hypercarnivore, meaning that at least 70% of its diet is made up of meat. Like other big cats, lions possess an array of weapons designed to incapacitate their prey, including claws to dig into their skin, incisors for gripping skin and tearing off meat, and canine teeth to pierce through their flesh and strangle the animal. Their back teeth, known as carnassial teeth, are similar to those you might see in a pet dog, and have edges that move against each other like scissors to cut through meat. Humans, however, are less equipped for ripping into raw flesh and are better suited for breaking down plant matter. Our large flat molars grind plants and grains, and our canines are considerably shorter – much more in line with the rest of our teeth than the protruding daggers we see in true carnivores.
Even if humans were naturally armed with the tools to bring down our prey, our guts aren’t well-designed for their digestion. A lion has a short intestine so that meat passes through quickly: if it were to stay inside for too long, it would begin to rot and fester. Humans have much longer intestines for the extraction of nutrients from sources that take longer to break down, i.e. the fibrous walls of plant cells.
A Meat-Eating Lion Does Not Correlate with a Meat-Eating Human
To argue that humans should eat meat because lions do is as ridiculous as claiming that we should survive on leaves because caterpillars do. Humans are not stalking the plains, depending on bringing down animals to survive: they are supermarket shoppers, cruising the aisles and paying with debit cards. To cite the lion as an excuse for eating meat is disingenuous, and a deflection from the real concerns that surround contemporary agriculture.
About the writer
Laura Maria Grierson is a writer and editor fromMiddlesbrough, NorthEast England. She createsbusiness content for a range of industries, edits both fiction and nonfiction, and her poetry and short storieshave been published in UK anthologies.
