Two Dollars, One Cow, and a Moral Dilemma
TLDR:
(too long, didn’t read)My Journey to Mindful Eating: I realized that my disconnect from how food is made shaped my decision to eat less meat—my wake-up call.
A Thought Experiment That Stuck With Me: Have you ever heard of the Drowning Child thought experiment? It changed the way I think about responsibility and distance in ethical decisions.
Connecting it to Factory Farming: The more I thought about it, the more I saw the same pattern in how we approach eating meat—we’re so removed from the process that it’s easy to ignore the ethics.
My Personal Realization: I couldn’t personally kill an animal for food, and outsourcing that responsibility felt wrong to me. That’s when I knew I had to change how I eat.
An Invitation for You: If this resonates with you, I invite you to reflect on your food choices and take small steps toward more mindful and ethical eating—every little change matters.
Give Me the Deets!
Give me the juicy detailsWhy I Stopped Eating Meat (Mostly)
I started this post intending to talk about how my ethical intuition led me to eat less meat, but as I kept writing, I realized there’s something even bigger worth exploring: how disconnection from processes like farming, manufacturing, and waste disposal affects our values. And honestly, this topic is as fascinating as it is uncomfortable. So let’s dive in—with paper shoes and all.
The Drowning Child Thought Experiment
One of my first philosophy classes introduced me to a thought experiment called The Drowning Child. It goes like this:
Imagine you’re standing near a kiddy pool, and a toddler falls in. The water is a foot deep, and the child is flailing. Their parent is too far away to help, but you’re right there. Do you save them? Of course, you do! It’s easy, right?
But let’s tweak the scenario. Now, you’re wearing paper shoes. To save the child, you’ll have to step into the water, ruining your shoes. It’ll cost you two dollars to replace them. Do you still save the child?
Most people say, “Duh, yes. It’s two dollars.”
Okay, now imagine you’re outside the pool, separated by a fence. There’s a machine next to you that, for two dollars, will deploy a crane to scoop the child out. Same cost, same outcome. Do you pay?
Most people still say yes, but here’s where it gets tricky: what if that drowning child wasn’t in front of you? What if they were halfway across the world? Instead of stepping into a pool or using a crane, you could donate two dollars to buy a salt pill that cures dysentery—a real scenario affecting real children. Yet, many people don’t feel the same urgency to act. Why?
It’s simple: distance. When we’re not firsthand witnesses to a problem, it’s easier to tune it out.
From Drowning Kids to Dinner Plates
This same idea—distance from the process—applies to our food choices. For most of us, eating a burger doesn’t feel like an ethical decision. We’re not the ones raising, killing, or processing the cow. We’re just enjoying the fruits (or meats) of someone else’s labor.
But what if we had to do it ourselves?
For me, that’s where the lightbulb went off. I realized that I couldn’t personally kill an animal for food. I just couldn’t. Not because I think eating meat is inherently wrong—plenty of cultures do it respectfully and sustainably—but because for me, the act of hiring someone else to do it feels like cheating. My professor preempted this whole topic by first asking us, in our own opinions, if we wanted to kill someone, is it better or worse to hire someone else to do it? My moral intuition now and then is that if someone is going to commit murder, they should do it with their own hands. Hiring someone seems sleazy to me. The moral implication for me was too obvious to ignore.
A cow being very impressed. ala Canva Photo Creator
The Disconnection Dilemma
Here’s where it gets even more interesting. Our modern food systems are designed to keep us disconnected from the realities of production. Think about it:
We don’t see the conditions of factory farms.
We don’t watch the slaughtering process.
And we definitely don’t spend much time thinking about what happens to all the waste. ( pig butts aka artificial calamari X)
This disconnection makes it easier to ignore the ethical and environmental implications of our choices. It’s the same reason people hesitate to think about where their clothes were made or how their electronics are recycled. Out of sight, out of mind.
A New Perspective
When I decided to eat less meat, it wasn’t because I felt superior or wanted to make a grand ethical statement. It was because I realized that if I couldn’t stomach the process of killing an animal, I shouldn’t ask someone else to do it for me.
It also helped me reconnect with the origins of my food. Growing vegetables, learning about sustainable farming, and even just reading labels has given me a new appreciation for what’s on my plate. It’s not about perfection—it’s about mindfulness. Cool phone app/tool to easily see what is in your food, makeup, etc: Yuka
What Can We Do?
If this idea resonates with you, here are a few small steps you can take:
Ask Questions: Where does your food come from? How is it made? What ingredients are added?
Try Meatless Mondays: It’s an easy way to experiment with eating less meat.
Support Ethical Farms: Look for local farmers who prioritize animal welfare.
Reconnect with Nature: Grow something—anything! Even a windowsill herb garden can shift your perspective.
Donate Thoughtfully: Remember the drowning child? A small donation can make a big impact.
Ultimately, this isn’t about guilt—it’s about choice. Whether you’re deciding what to eat or whether to donate, being mindful of your actions (and their ripple effects) is a powerful step toward living a more intentional life.
Cheers,
Astrid M
