The Trouble With Spikol: Print Edition: Moore to Loathe

As predicted, this column is getting a big response right out of the gate. I’ve been a little depressed, which always makes me thin-skinned. I hope this week won’t be too taxing with people being angry at me, but I suspect I’ve opened myself up to that. Oh well. I stand by the column.

When I heard my parents’ neighbors at the shore had a chihuahua puppy, it was all I could think of as I drove to stay with them. But when I arrived, Tarzan (yes, seriously) was gone; his owners were out of town. The disappointment was lacerating. It was like Christmas morning when I’d wake up and run downstairs—only to remember Santa doesn’t visit Jews.

You’d think, given this kind of pathetic obsession with animals and their cuteness—along with an abiding affection for asparagus—I’d be the ideal target demographic for PETA. But its tactics have always rankled me.

Like antichoice activists with their stupid posters of bloody fetuses, angry, aggressive PETA members gather outside stores and hospitals holding aloft photos of screeching piglets or mopey chickens or crusty-eyed kittens. Then they chant. I walk by and think, “We’re on the same side, but you’re yelling at me.”

PETA’s tough-love approach doesn’t work for a person like me. If someone tells me I’m ethically compromised and lack self-discipline because of my eating habits, I’m going to get teary-eyed and run away—probably in the direction of Outback Steakhouse.

If I trace it back, I think PETA lost me with its “Holocaust on Your Plate” campaign. In those ads, photos of emaciated animals were juxtaposed with photos of Holocaust victims, suggesting some kind of moral equivalency. Later PETA president Ingrid Newkirk invoked human slavery to make a point about the current enslavement of animals. I found
both comparisons deeply offensive, and not fitting for an organization that preaches ethics and humanity.

As a longtime advocate for change, I’ve noticed an activist habit of mind that seems uniquely self-destructive. Groups with sympathetic causes often work against each other, as though they were fighting to win the U.S. Open of Leftist Political Engagement.

“Our tactics are better than yours,” everyone seems to be saying. “We’re braver.” “We’re more committed.” “We’re gayer.” Never mind that we’re all fighting to make the world a better place. It’s more important to tear each other down.

That’s what must be going on between PETA and Michael Moore. Shortly after the release of Moore’s newest film Sicko, Newkirk wrote him an open letter berating him for being fat and imploring him to become a vegetarian.

Never mind the fact that Moore was taking on an American problem that affects every single human being in the country. Forget that he’s arguing for the same kind of rights for people that PETA argues for animals. Newkirk, a self-described “press slut,” saw her opening, and she took it—heedless of its illogic.

“Congratulations from PETA on the reviews for Sicko,” Newkirk wrote. “Although we think that your film could actually help reform America’s sorely inadequate healthcare system, there’s an elephant in the room, and it is you.” This was followed by Newkirk’s advice that Moore convert to vegetarianism. She wrote: “As they say at Nike
(sorry!): ‘Just do it.’”

I was horrified—as were many others who read the letter. PETA later claimed that where Newkirk was using the “elephant in the room” metaphor, she was merely invoking a commonplace idiomatic expression rather than commenting on Moore’s girth. But that’s bullshit.

She could’ve just as easily put it in other words, but PETA has always prioritized cleverness over compassion. I’m sure she and her staff were thrilled when they thought of that one. What a zinger!

Newkirk’s decision to co-opt the debate about Moore’s film is preposterous. Sicko creates an essential opportunity to galvanize activism on the subject of healthcare, and given the reality that Moore histrionically illustrates in
his film, we can’t afford to waste this moment.

I know Newkirk (who I’m guessing has health insurance) would disagree with me, but people’s lives—Sicko’s focus—are more important than eating vegetarian. My hamster gets better healthcare intervention than most people I pass on the street. That’s just wrong.

And what in the world does Michael Moore’s weight have to do with a movie he’s made? How is that the elephant in the room? I suffer from mental illness, but I write about it anyway. If a deaf person wanted to make a movie about deafness, would we object?

Neither analogy is precise because being fat is not necessarily the same thing as being unhealthy. Nor does Moore’s alleged poor physical condition detract from his message. In fact, it may make the argument more potent.

Prejudice against overweight people is so tiresome, so juvenile. Skinny Ingrid Newkirk wants animals to be honored and respected, but she eagerly attacks Moore’s dignity—and I guarantee what he’s doing with his time is more meaningful than what the smartest chicken could accomplish in its entire life.

With Sicko, Moore is essentially calling for a revolution—and that takes courage, especially because he surely knew making a film on this subject would get the fat jokes going. By attacking Moore in such a predictable, mean-spirited fashion, PETA once again makes itself seem childish and ridiculous—and less relevant than ever.

liz | 10:23 AM | Uncategorized