Jun 11, 2025
As I stroked the stomach of a contented, free-roaming pig on an Iberian ham farm in Spain, I felt a strange mix of affection and unease. These animals were raised with extraordinary care—clean air, open pastures, even gentle handling by farmers who spoke of them with respect. Yet their ultimate purpose was clear: to become some of the world’s finest ham.
The farmer explained it plainly: "A good life makes better meat. We honor them by how we treat them."
I’ve avoided pork for a decade, yet here I was, confronting an ethical system entirely different from my own—one that didn’t villainize meat-eating but sought to dignify it. It left me wondering: Can two opposing beliefs both hold moral weight?
The modern world loves absolutes. In food, politics, and culture, we’re pushed to extremes:
- "Meat is murder." vs. "Farming is tradition—get over it."
- "Your side is evil." vs. "My side is righteous.”
But the Iberian farmers occupied a middle space. They weren’t industrial agribusiness; they weren’t vegan activists. They believed in both consumption and compassion. And it made me question: What if the healthiest perspective isn’t at the poles, but somewhere in between?
The farm’s philosophy reminded me of a lesson we’ve forgotten: You don’t have to share someone’s beliefs to respect their commitment to them.
- A vegan’s avoidance of meat is moral.
- A farmer’s dedication to ethical husbandry is moral.
- A hunter who uses every part of an animal operates on a code, too.
Yet instead of seeking common ground—better treatment of animals, less waste, more mindfulness—we often default to shouting past each other. The same happens in politics, religion, and social justice: We fight caricatures instead of engaging with real, nuanced people.
The farm didn’t change my personal choices, but it shifted my perspective. Maybe the way forward isn’t uniformity, but respectful coexistence.
- Can we advocate for sustainability and acknowledge cultural food traditions?
- Can we debate policies without assuming malice in those who disagree?
The pigs, in their own way, taught me that contradiction is part of life. We can hold two truths at once: "This life is valued" and "This life will end to sustain others." The discomfort in that space is where growth happens.
Next time you encounter a belief that clashes with yours—whether about food, politics, or anything else—ask:
1. What values underlie this? (e.g., tradition, care, sustainability)
2. Where might we overlap?
3. Can I disagree and still learn something?
The world won’t stop being complicated. But if we meet each other in the messy middle—where respect outweighs righteousness—we might just make progress.