The central purpose of the MFM campaign is for participants to go one day per week without eating meat (including fish) in order to slow the onset of global climate change by reducing the amount of CO2 generated through industrial meat production. Alleviating global hunger and improving domestic animal welfare are also at the heart of this campaign, as both are detrimentally impacted by the voracious appetite of the western world. It's a simple concept - grain that could otherwise be sent to the third world is instead being gobbled up by our cows, pigs, and chickens. Decreased demand for meat would result in decreased livestock and poultry populations, and, consequently, the availability of more grain supplies for human consumption. Factory farms, notorious for the deplorable conditions in which they keep animals, would become less congested as a result of decreased demand, allowing penned animals a better quality of life simply through the provision of more space.
Maintaining one's health is also a focal point of the campaign. Myriad studies have linked diets rich in meat and dairy to ailments such as heart disease and obesity, and even certain types of cancers. By reducing our intake of meats, we lessen our chances of developing any of these devastating illnesses.
These are all compelling reasons to observe a meat free day every week. But how can we convince our carnivorous friends and family members to make such a commitment, which might seem impossible or at the very least undesirable upon first hearing? Maybe a history lesson will do the trick.
Going meat free one day per week is not a novel concept. In fact, as a nationwide initiative, it's one whose origins extend back to World War I. Meatless Mondays and Wheatless Wednesdays were part of a national campaign run by the U.S. Food Administration that encouraged Americans to voluntarily reduce their consumption of meat (cattle, hog, and sheep), wheat, sugar, and fat, in an effort to feed Allied Europe and the American soldiers fighting there. Central to the success of the campaign was the education of American housewives in the art of food substitution without compromising taste or nutritional benefits. Cheese acted as a substitute for meat, honey and syrups substituted sugar, and cornmeal, oats, barley, and rye replaced wheat. Federal and state level home economists, predominantly women, bolstered the campaign through the creation of innovative recipes and educational programs that saw even school aged children versed in the importance of food substitution, food preservation, and the folly of food waste. Some of the more interesting and easy to prepare recipes from this era are cottage cheese sausages, war cakes, and potato balls.
Spurred on by the campaign slogan "Food Will Win the War" the campaign brought about a 15% reduction in domestic food consumption without rationing, and saw 18,500,000 tons of food sent to Europe between 1918 and 1919.
What the success of Meatless Mondays and Wheatless Wednesdays proved was that the simple act of abstaining from meat and wheat one day per week made a huge difference to the outcome of the war. Who's to say that by doing the same now, we won't make a similar difference in the fight against climate change, world hunger, the demand for animal rights, and the health of our nation? Ninety years ago, Americans were willing to voluntarily alter their lifestyles if it meant contributing to the greater good. Is it possible that we're capable of the same level of personal sacrifice in this day and age?
The MFM campaign is off and running. So, let's get on board and Help! each other out by making the world a better, healthier place to live.
]]>While Mandelson has dismissed the stunt as an "adolescent protest" it has garnered praise from the British public, many of whom vehemently oppose the expansion of Heathrow Airport and regard Mandelson as an unscrupulous advocate for big business, particularly through his dealings with the British Airport Authority (BAA), who own Heathrow. The overwhelming consensus on the message boards of British newspaper The Guardian is that the incident was both "juvenile and justified," with many commentators fingering the undermining of the democratic process over the airport expansion decision as the impetus behind such action, as a parliamentary vote was not taken.
But not everyone was pleased by what transpired that morning. Interspersed between congratulatory postings were calls for Miss Deen to be on the receiving end of a hot coffee shower, a brick hurled through her front window or a fist raised in violence. The same day a Guardian columnist questioned whether public figures should have to endure such abuse, to which the response was mixed.
Miss Deen's actions are very clearly that of a woman who has reached her tipping point. Her frustration and outrage over the worsening climate is understandable, and many of us who share similar feelings of exasperation might consider doing the same. It took courage to confront a public figure, but what did throwing green custard on Peter Mandelson actually achieve? It may have refocused the attention of a nation on climate change for an instant, but did it succeed in winning support for the cause, or has just the opposite occurred?
Direct action environmentalism is a thorny issue. Depending on how far you're willing to go - how many laws you're willing to break, how many barbed-wire fences you're willing to scale - direct action environmentalism can achieve immediate and significant results. And while it is also a great way to win attention for your cause, it can also detract from it, should the public find the protest distasteful or disruptive. Take Plane Stupid, for example. In December 2008, a group of 50 Plane Stupid activists breeched the security fence at Stansted Airport and setup a makeshift enclosure on the runway where they remained for hours, forcing the cancellation of dozens of flights. The stunt attracted national media coverage, and more importantly, prevented the release of thousands of tons of CO2 emissions into the atmosphere. It also succeeded in enraging thousands of affected travelers and airport employees, many of whom said that this was not the way to win their support. Also in December, a lone climate change protester entered Kingsnorth, Britain's most heavily secured power-plant, and switched off a 500MW turbine, bringing electrical output to a screeching halt for 4 hours. It is estimated that this act alone cut UK carbon emissions by 2%. You can imagine how people reacted when everything suddenly went black.
These two instances of direct action environmentalism produced real, measurable results by preventing the release of thousands of tons of greenhouse gas emissions into the atmosphere. Though they were unlawful, irritating to the general public, and extremely dangerous, the acts served the purpose of the protestors by temporarily bringing about the change they so desperately want to achieve.
As such, I wouldn't categorize stunts such as Leila Deen's as direct action environmentalism, but rather a provoked response after one too many illegal jabs from a goliath opponent. OK, maybe it was childish, but to strike out at something, or in this instance, someone, that unjustly frustrates your efforts time and again, or the efforts of an entire movement, is not unnatural. Sometimes it's the only means of expression we have left, the only way to get the point across that we are unhappy. I do not begrudge Miss Deen this means of expression, but to risk alienating further a wavering public for the sake of mocking a public figure is something that hardly seems worth doing.
On Friday, March 13th, the environmental group Stop Stansted Expansion (SSE) lost the legal battle to halt the go-ahead of a second runway at Stansted Airport. I wonder how the direct action community will respond.
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