It seems like violence—or rather
killing—was a recurring theme in my readings and experiences this weekend. As I
read the hunting and gathering section of The
Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan for Food and Travel Writing, I also
read the ending of On Killing by Dave
Grossman for Social Psychology. I also learned about the job of a foreign war
correspondent while I was at a journalism conference in Chicago. This weekend
was the most fantastic intersection of all of these bits of learning and they
all converged as I read about Michael Pollan killing a wild boar in Northern
California. Woah.
In The Omnivore’s Dilemma, Pollan embarks on a hunting adventure to
reach the ultimate level of knowing where food comes from. He seems determined
to finish his journey through the food chain, and an experiment with the
hunter-gatherer diet is his final stop. It is fascinating to me that Pollan
thought reading anti-meat-eating-literature and becoming a temporary vegetarian
were crucial elements in achieving his goal. He seems to conflicted about
hunting and so reluctant to identify with other hunters. In fact, Pollan says
he’s embarrassed to write the way hunters like Ortega y Gasset do about killing
animals in the wild.
Why, then, does Pollan seem so
proud when he finally kills a boar? Why does he take on the prideful,
masculine, and aggressive writing voice typical of what he calls “hunter porn?”
In fact, after killing, Pollan writes, “The one emotion I expected to feel but
did not, inexplicably, was remorse, or even ambivalence… I’m slightly
embarrassed to admit, I felt absolutely terrific—unambiguously happy” (353).
According to Dave Grossman,
Pollan’s feelings all have to do with the psychology that surrounds the act of
killing other living beings. Grossman argues that pride and ecstasy are common
responses to adrenaline rushes after a kill. Many soldiers experience these
feelings in combat. This elated feeling can develop into what Grossman calls
addiction to combat. The more some soldiers fire and kill, the more they want
to continue killing. This addiction isn’t always permanent and sometimes goes
away.
Grossman’s thoughts on military
combat parallel Angelo’s sentiments about hunting addiction and sport in The Omnivore’s Dilemma. Pollan describes
a conversation in which Angelo talks about his friend who keeps on catching and
releasing even after he’s reached the limit on fish per fishing trip. By
contrast, when Angelo hunts enough pig to make a dinner, he says he’s finished.
The catch in release game, according to Angelo, is like “playing with your
food. You shouldn’t play with your food” (339).
I was struck again by this concept
of killing addiction this weekend when I listened to a war correspondent tell
her story about reporting from Iraq. This Washington Post reporter and Columbia
College professor noted that in all of the pictures taken of her embedded in
the United States Army and reporting from the front lines, she’s smiling. “I
can’t figure it out—I seem so happy,” she said. The reporter suggested that her
happiness could be the result of some kind of adrenaline addiction; she kept
requesting to be sent back to Iraq.
I was so thrilled to find these
connections in my reading and experiences this weekend. Sigmund Freud wrapped
it all up for me. He theorized that humans need a balance between Eros, the drive
for life, and Thanatos, the drive for death. I think that’s what Pollan is
searching for in solving the Omnivore’s
Dilemma.
What fascinating intersection of stories you have here Kelsey. I never even considered the killing outside of hunting while I was reading. Jordan had read this book and told me about it a long time ago. He's considered addicted to adrenaline and so his heart rate is always elevated. I know multiple people that got off one deployment from Afghanistan and rolled over onto another I always was just like, damn, they're crazy, but never considered the psychological implications. Thanks so much for these links. It's crazy isn't it? Have you ever felt any adrenaline like that? I can't imagine you ever shooting a gun, but maybe something similar. I've never killed an animal except for a deer with my car and my dad used to hunt birds when I was little until I would start crying every time he left, so it was hard to kind of find that "hunting instnct" in myself. I look forward to talking more about this in class.
ReplyDeleteI've met so many journalists--most of them war correspondents--who suffer from an addiction to intensity (that's what I call it). They can't function without being in a war zone after having experienced it. Life is too dull and boring; they're crawling out of their skin.
ReplyDeleteI think that's slightly different from killing an animal for food, though I'm not sure. There can be a satisfaction in that singular experience, that ability to feed oneself, that self reliance. Though I suspect the rush, the feeling is much different than that of growing and eating from one's own garden. I don't know, because I've never killed anything larger than a mouse. And there was little satisfaction in that.
Anyway, you make wonderful connections here--bravo! I just love seeing students make meaning of their education from moment to moment, in its entirety. It means you'll be doing this the rest of your life. That is a gift.