In the case of Thanksgiving, the need is not so much to eat a turkey, a patriotic obligation that many people reject, but to rationalize an activity that, despite every effort to make the turkey seem more like a turnip, has purposely failed to obliterate the bird into just meat. To do so would diminish the bird’s dual role in creating the full Thanksgiving experience.
Collage by Beth Clifton, Animals24-7.org
“Nothing so unites us as gathering with one mind to murder someone we
hate, unless it is coming together to share in a meal.”
– Margaret Visser, The Rituals of Dinner, p. 33.
The Turkey and the Eagle in American Myth
The turkey is not America’s official national bird; the bald eagle of North
America was adopted by the U.S. Congress in 1782. However, the turkey has
become an American symbol, rivaling the eagle in actual, if not formal,
significance. The turkey is ceremonially linked to Thanksgiving, the oldest
holiday in the United States. Yet, unlike the eagle, the turkey is not a
symbol of power and prestige.
Nor, despite frequent claims, is there any evidence that Benjamin Franklin
(1706-1790) seriously promoted the turkey as the national bird – more
“respectable” than the bald eagle, except as a passing jest in a letter to
his married daughter, Sarah Bache, on January 26, 1784, two years after
Congress had already adopted the bald eagle (Novak).
While the wild turkey has a long history of involvement with Native
American, Colonial American, and European cultures, today the bird is
invoked primarily in order to disparage commercially raised factory-farm
turkeys. Little has changed since the consumer newsletter Moneysworth
snarked on November 26, 1973:
“When Audubon painted it, it was a sleek, beautiful, though odd-headed bird,
capable of flying 65 miles per hour. . . . Today, the turkey is an obese,
immobile thing, hardly able to stand, much less fly. As for respectability,
the big bird is so stupid that it must be taught to eat.”1
Baby turkeys on a laser debeaking carousel at the hatchery. Photo by
Compassion Over Killing.
Each year, this litany of sarcasm accompanies the sentimentality around
Thanksgiving. Each year, the media ridicule the Thanksgiving Day bird. If
yesterday it was certain ethnic populations and foreigners we insulted – a
bigotry resurgent in the 21st century – today we can count on the likelihood
that, as usual at Thanksgiving, turkeys will be exposed to humiliation and
insult.
Strange Mixture of Honor and Hatred
Thanksgiving has other functions, but one thing it does is to formalize a
desire to kill someone we hate and make a meal out of that someone. In this
role, the turkey dinner is not far distant from a cannibal feast, in what
Eli Sagan called that “strange mixture of honor and hatred” in which not a
few cultures in history have disposed of their enemies and relatives in
ceremonial fashion.
Many people to whom I mention this “hatred of the turkey” idea say they
never noticed it before, or if they did, they gave it no thought. Such
obliviousness illustrates, in part, the idea that the “most successful
examples of manipulation are those which exploit practices which clearly
meet a felt – not necessarily a clearly understood – need among particular
bodies of people,” according to Eric Hobsbawn and Terence Ranger on page 307
of The Invention of Tradition.
In the case of Thanksgiving, the need is not so much to eat a turkey, a
patriotic obligation that many people reject, but to rationalize an activity
that, despite every effort to make the turkey seem more like a turnip, has
purposely failed to obliterate the bird into just meat. To do so would
diminish the bird’s dual role in creating the full Thanksgiving experience.
“Performance of Killing” Must Be “Seen” to Be Real
To affect people properly, a sacrificial animal must not only be eaten by
them; the animal’s death must be “witnessed by them, and not suffered out of
sight as we now arrange matters.” But since this is how we now arrange
matters – the modern Do It Yourself slaughter fetish notwithstanding –
attention must somehow be “deliberately drawn, by means of ritual and
ceremony” to the reality of the animal’s life and the “performance of
killing,” observes Margaret Visser in her survey of eating customs from
prehistory to the present, The Rituals of Dinner (32).
This is why, to be ritually meaningful, the turkey continues to be
culturally constructed as a sacred player in our drama about ourselves as a
nation, at the same time that we insist that the bird is a nobody, an
anonymous “production animal.” For Visser, what is meant by “sacrifice” is
literally the “making sacred” of an animal consumed for dinner. No wonder
that mentioning cannibalism in connection with eating turkeys or any other
animals provokes a storm of protest, since as she says, cannibalism to the
Western mind is “massively taboo,” more damnable than incest (5).
Cannibalism
However, cannibalism, transposed to the consumption of a nonhuman animal, is
a critical, if largely unconscious, component of America’s Thanksgiving
ritual.2
America knows at some level that it has to manage its portion of humanity’s
primeval desire to have “somebody” suffer and die ritualistically for the
benefit of the community or the nation at a time when the consumption of
nonhuman animals has become morally problematic in the West as well as
industrialized to the point where the eaters can barely imagine the animals
involved in their meal. It is ironic, Visser says on page 32, that “people
who calmly organize daily hecatombs of beasts, and who are among the most
death-dealing carnivores the world has ever seen,” are shocked by the
slaughtering of animals in other cultures.
Photo of a mother turkey and her growing children by Jeff Borchers, The
Kerulos Center
Notes
References
Return to Animals: Tradition - Philosophy - Religion
Read more at Turkeys - Articles, Poems, Stories, Videos