I’m in front of the meat shelf at the supermarket. There is more meat than I could have imagined, all duly packed in plastic or cardboard trays and protected by plastic wrap that protects them from our sneezes. I walk from one side of the shelf to the other thinking that all these meats are the same because they are different. Chicken, cow, sheep, chicken, pig… All these animals are made of fat and muscle, just like you and me. Moreover, if there was a human part in one of these vessels, we would not be able to distinguish it. How can I distinguish the sirloin steak from the neighbor’s steak?
I like meat, but I still think its consumption is a form of attenuated cannibalism. Cannibalism was once a common practice among humans. As culture may have blessed it, it was turning us away from this tradition. For example, what is received at communion is the body and blood of Christ, and not symbolically, but literally. Once consecrated, the wine and host become a real body. At least that’s what the Church says. Therefore, they can only be manipulated by authorized persons. Therefore, the Eucharist is a sacrament and a mystery.
There is another form of cannibalism, which is of a symbolic nature, and I guess that’s what we’re doing in the face of this brutal offer of meat, which I don’t know which to choose. Capitalism, in its most extreme practice that we have experienced, constitutes the form of dedication of the species. When I buy a tray of chicken, I feel like I’m taking a bite out of the person who raised it and sold it for a ridiculous price compared to the price I bought it. We eat each other like barbarians throughout the distribution chain. By the way, there are two types of chicken breast. One is pale, white as if it came from a sick animal, and the other, very attractive to the eye, is a corn-like yellow. The difference in quality and price between one and the other is immense, as the first is from a working-class chicken, and the second from a middle-class chicken. There are also classes in cannibalism.