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One pig slips and its leg gets caught; the animal gets up and limps forward. All of them end up between iron bars leading them to the holding-pens. At every corner the animals get stuck and blockages result. The worker is furious and swears as he lashes out at the animals in the last rows. They panic and try to jump onto the backs of their fellow sufferers.

From behind, something nudges the back of my leg. I turn around and look into two intelligent blue eyes. I know many animal lovers who enthuse about the deep sentiments one can read in the eyes of a cat, or the unfailingly loyal and faithful regard in the eyes of a dog. But who has ever talked about the intelligence and curiosity in the eyes of a pig? Soon, I am going to see quite another expression in these eyes: quiet screams of fear, overcome with pain, empty eyes torn from their sockets, rolling on the blood-stained floor.

A tour of the abattoir follows, starting in the staff room that has an open window towards the slaughter hall, disclosing a never-ending parade of pale and bloody pig halves. Indifferently, two employees are having their breakfast: sandwich and cold meat. Their white gowns are covered in blood.

A bit of flesh is stuck to one of their boots. Here, the hellish tumult is somewhat muted, but that changes immediately as I am led to the slaughter hall. I retreat hastily when a pig carcass swishes around the corner and hits another. It brushes against me, warm and doughy. Everything hits me at the same time. Piercing cries. The grating of machinery, the metallic sound of tools.

The penetrating stench of blood and hot water. Laughter, casual remarks. Flashing knives, hooks in twitching animal halves without eyes. Chunks of flesh and organs fall into a gutter where blood flows in abundance so that the disgusting liquid splashes over me. Slippery lumps of meat on the floor. Men in white, blood dripping down their clothing. Under helmets and caps, the faces are just like any other that you might see on the metro, in the cinema or in the supermarket.

You expect monsters but instead you meet the nice granddad from next door, the funny young man in the street, the well-groomed bank manager. Friendly greetings. The director quickly shows me the hall where cattle are slaughtered.

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It is empty. I am allowed to enjoy one day of grace by sitting next to the staff room cutting small pieces of meat from a bucket, samples that a blood-stained hand from the slaughter room refills regularly. The lady introduces me to the system. Trichina is never found, but the test is obligatory. The next day, I find myself part of the gigantic killing machine. I cut. I have to work fast because the production line keeps moving. Above me, other pieces of carcass are cut out.

When my colleague works too fast or when the bloody mess blocks the gully, the broth hits my face. I try to move to the other side but there, an enormous water-cooled blade cuts the pig carcasses in two: it is impossible to stay there without getting soaked to the bone.

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Gritting my teeth, I continue cutting. Furthermore, I have to be damned careful not to cut my fingers off. The next day, I borrow a metal glove from a colleague who has already gone through the ordeal. And I stop counting the blood-dripping pigs that parade before me. I do not use rubber gloves any longer. It is absolutely repugnant to plunge your bare hands inside still warm carcasses, but because you get soiled with blood up to the shoulders and the sticky mixture of corporal fluids seeps into the gloves anyway, they are useless.

Why does anyone bother to make horror films, when all this is right here? The knife is soon blunt. Having handed me back my sharpened knife, he starts to chat about this and that, and he tells me a joke before going back to work. From then on he takes me under his wing a little and shows me a few tricks that make the work on the production line a bit easier. I can tell. But it has to be done.

He goes through a lot of trouble to reassure me. Most of the others also make an effort to help me. I am sure that they find the endless parade of numerous trainees amusing, to see that we are shocked at first and then grit our teeth in order to complete our training. They are well-meaning people, there are no petty squabbles. I must admit that I cannot consider the workers as monsters, apart from a few exceptions. They simply become indifferent, just like me, as time goes by. It is self-protection. The real monsters are those who order this massacre each and every day, and who, because of their greed for meat, condemn animals to a miserable life and an appalling end, and force other humans to do a job which is degrading and which transforms them into rough, coarse beings.

Me, I am progressively turning into a small cog in this monstrous automatism of death. In danger of being suffocated by the deafening racket and presence of indescribable and omnipresent horror, comprehension retakes the upper hand on the dazed senses and starts functioning again. Differentiates, tries to make sense. When, during the second or third day, I become aware that burned and torn animal bodies still move and tiny tails are still wagging, I freeze.

A place of horror, I am frozen to the very marrow of my bones.

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At home I lie down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Hours pass. Every day. People near me get irritated. After all, it was you who insisted on becoming a vet. Not a butcher of animals. I am cracking up. These remarks. This indifference. This matter-of-fact murder. I want to, I need to speak out, to get it off my chest. I am suffocating. I have seen the animal again when both its halves dangled in front of me: The muscles were torn on both sides of slaughter number of that day.

I shall never forget that number. I want to speak about the days when cows are killed, their gentle brown eyes filled with panic. A deadly shot. A chain on the hind leg pulling the wriggling body up while the head is severed. A stream of blood spurts in profusion from the headless but still writhing body and its kicking legs.

There is the aluminium waste chute, where the internal organs torn out of huge headless corpses, with the exception of liver, heart, the lungs and tongue, which are all destined for consumption, slide into some kind of rubbish collector. I want to report that again and again in the midst of these sticky, bloody mountains a gravid uterus is seen. I saw tiny calves, already fully-formed, of all sizes, fragile and naked, their eyes closed inside the uterine envelope which can no longer protect them, the smallest as tiny as a new-born kitten, but nonetheless a miniature cow, the biggest with a silky coat of brown-white hairs, with long silky eyelashes, only a few weeks away from birth.

I am now certain that no God can exist because no lightning came down from the sky to punish the crimes committed down here, crimes which will be perpetuated interminably. Nobody has enough compassion to put her out of her misery with a quick shot. When I leave around lunch time, the cow is still [lying] there, twitching.

In spite of several appeals, nobody has helped. I loosen the rope which was cutting into her flesh and stroke her forehead. She looks at me with her huge eyes and I learn then and there that cows can cry. The guilt of watching a crime without reacting is as difficult to bear as the crime one commits oneself.

I feel immensely guilty. My hands, my gown and my boots are soiled with the blood of her species. I have been at the production line for hours, cut hearts and lungs and livers. But hardly anyone wants to listen. I want to scream but the horror I have experienced each and every day suffocates me. Nobody has asked me if I cope. It will soon be over! The massacre continues, day after day.

Now I consider all those who pretend to be friends of animals and still eat meat as fakes. One feels so terribly lost and alone at these moments.

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Now and then I look at the tiny cow foetus that I took home and which I put in formaldehyde. Memento Mori.


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The never-ending screams that fill the slaughter halls when the animals feel death could also stem from women and children. Callousness is inevitable. At one point I can only think that I want it to stop. I want it to stop. Hasten with the electric stunning so that it stops. Eyes I shall never forget. Eyes that everyone who wants meat ought to see. The pigs are separated with the aid of a rubber cudgel. One of them is pushed in the direction of a space enclosed on all sides.

It cries, and tries to back up and escape from where it came, but there is no escape. At the press of a button, the floor of the pen is replaced by a kind of moving walk-way leading to another box. A three-pointed stunning device, as the director explained to me. We see the pig bucking as the moving walkway is brusquely withdrawn and the twitching animal slides over a blood-covered slide. A second butcher plunges his knife under the front right of the pig; a flow of dark blood spurts and the body slumps forwards.

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The butcher grabs the bottle and has a drink. This one is high and black, full of smut, stench, and smoke. After several bends during which the blood continues to flow into pools, the row of pigs arrive at a kind of enormous oven. One can see inside. Flames flare up and for several seconds; the bodies shake and seem to perform a grotesque sort of jumping dance. They are then taken to the other side on a large table where butchers remove the remaining bristles, scrape the eye-sockets and separate the trotters.

All this happens very rapidly: work on a conveyer belt. Hanging from hooks by the tendons of their back legs, the dead animals are then directed towards a metal flatbed containing a kind of flame-thrower. In the deafening noise, the body of the animal is subjected to a jet of flames which, in the course of a few seconds, envelope it entirely.

The conveyor belt then moves on again and transports the body into the next hall, the same one in which I found myself during the first three weeks. There, the organs are removed and placed onto another conveyor belt higher up. The tongue is examined, the tonsils and the oesophagus severed and thrown away, the lymphatic ganglions cut, the lungs put in the waste, the tracheal artery and the heart opened, the samples for the trichina analyses taken, the gall bladder pulled out and the liver examined for any sign of the presence of worms.

Many pigs have worms and if their livers are full of them, it must be thrown away. All the other organs, like the stomach, the intestines, the genitals, are scrapped. On the lower conveyor belt, the rest of the body is prepared: divided into pieces; the articulations cut, the anus, the kidneys and the fatty parts surrounding the kidneys taken out; the brain and the spinal cord removed, etc. A break is granted in the middle of the morning, and with a sigh of relief I rush to the toilets and do my best to clean myself of the blood and chunks of flesh; it seems as if these stains and this smell will cling to me forever.

Get out, just get out of here. I am unable to eat the smallest mouthful of food in this building. Either I spend my break-time, as cold as it may be outside, running around the perimeter fence, where I regard from afar the fields and the beginning of the woods and watch the crows. Eating meat is a crime. Never again will I be able to accept those people who eat meat as my friends. Never, never again. I think that all those who eat meat should be sent here, and be made to see what happens, from the beginning to the end.

I am not in this position because I want to become a vet, but because people insist on eating meat. And not only that: It is also because they are cowards. Their escalope, whitened, sterile, purchased at the supermarket, no longer has eyes that pour tears of fright before death, it no longer screams. One day, a farmer came and brought meat samples to be analysed for trichina. His small son who was with him pressed his nose against the window. I thought that perhaps if the children could see all this horror, all these animals being killed, then perhaps we could hope that things might change.

What an enormous saw! Because I feel not only terror and revulsion towards a murder committed upon a human being, but also towards those committed thousands of times upon animals, in one single week and in one single abattoir. Strange new world. In one way or another, the last of these interminable days has finally arrived and I have received my training certificate, a scrap of paper, for which the price paid was so high. I have never paid so much for anything. The door closes behind me; a timorous November sun accompanies me from the heart of the abattoir as far as the bus stop.

The cries of the animals and the sound of the machines fade. I cross the road as a large wagon transporting animals rounds the bend to enter the abattoir. It is filled on two levels with pigs, crammed one against the other. I leave without a backwards glance because I have borne witness and, at present, I want to try to forget and to continue to live. It is up to others to fight now; myself, it is my strength, my will, and my joy of living that have been taken away from me and replaced by a sentiment of guilt and paralysing sadness. Hell is amongst us, thousands and thousands of times, day after day.

There is one thing left however, and forever, for each one of us to do. The following is a short excerpt:. A minute videotape released in proved in a gruesome way that Christiane M. Haupt did not just accidentally choose a particularly awful slaughterhouse at a bad time. The slaughterer cuts his throat with a big knife; blood gushes out. The slaughterer, who is busy cutting off the front hooves, has to take cover. When the slaughterer cleans the blood from himself and the slaughter room with a hose, the suffering animal uses his last ounce of strength to try to reach the water jet with his tongue.

The footage clearly documents that these animals are fully conscious. They are aware of their environment while being cut up and made into meat on the assembly lines. Please go to www. When pithing was used, a rod was inserted into the spinal cord through the bullet hole, causing irreversible brain death and ensuring that the animal would not feel any pain afterwards.

On the other hand, veterinarian Karl Wenzel of the Munich Consumer Ministry stated that the ban revealed that inefficient stunning really occurred or that for some animals the current bolt stunning was just not sufficient. Some of us have had the painful experience of being betrayed by someone. It can take years to recover from the shock of realizing that one has been deceived in the most egregious manner.

For some people, the shock remains for a lifetime. But this is nothing compared to how we betray animals! Animals now in slaughterhouses might have been well cared for by someone in the past. Organic farmers, for example, are always keen to assure people how close they are to their animals. And then, all of a sudden, these animals find themselves in hell, surrounded by people inflicting unbelievably cruel suffering on them. Others can fight now; in that house, they took my strength away … and replaced it with guilt and crippling sadness.

The author talked to slaughterhouse workers who had a combined 2 million hours of experience at the stunning box. They open them up. Skin them. Their feet are cut off. I took a three foot chunk of pipe and I literally beat that hog to death. Then you drag him backwards. The hog went crazy for a few seconds. Then it just sat there looking kind of stupid. So I took a handful of salt brine and ground it into his nose. Now that hog really went nuts, pushing its nose all over the place. When you got a live hog, you not only kill it, you want to make it hurt.

You go in hard, blow the windpipe, make it drown in its own blood. A live hog would be looking up at me and I would just take my knife and … take its eye out while it was just sitting there. And this hog would just scream. End of excerpt. Go to www. The perpetrators of abuse and their political supporters downplay these reports about cruelty to animals as exceptions to the rule, claiming that the Animal Welfare Act protects animals.

However, the opposite is true. Pus, antibiotic residues and residues of other medications in dairy products therefore come as no surprise. The cows are artificially inseminated raped and impregnated each year so that they will continue to give milk; because cows only give milk after having given birth to a calf. After a cow gives birth, mother and calf are separated, traumatizing them both. Because of their natural instincts, this separation is so traumatic that the cow and her calf will cry out, moo or bellow for days. However, for these calves, the suffering does not end there.

Female calves are used in milk production to replace their exhausted mothers. They, too, enter a vicious circle of forced pregnancy, physical exhaustion through intensive milk extraction, giving birth and suffering from the separation from their calves during their abbreviated lives. Male calves are fattened for meat production in tiny, dark barns where they often live in stalls hardly bigger than their own body. Still, the cruelty continues. The intensive farming of laying hens who live at the ground level in organic farming systems also denies the animals the opportunity to fulfill their basic needs and clearly amounts to cruelty to animals.

Whereas only female chickens lay eggs, male chicks are considered useless to the egg industry and are typically gassed or shredded alive. Only some breeds are raised for meat production. Countless videos both overt and undercover taken in slaughterhouses all over the world show that animals are not only exposed to the inevitable terror and torture of factory farming and mass slaughter but also deliberately and sadistically tortured by workers in the animal industry and in slaughterhouses with shocking frequency.

For me as a physician with expertise in psychology and psychiatry, such extreme cruelty to animals in slaughterhouses and farms is not all that surprising. After the evaluation of numerous film documents, farms and slaughterhouses seem to be ideal settings for sadistic perversions to be acted upon almost always with impunity. Any consumer of animal products should be aware of this. By the way, exhausted milk cows and laying hens are killed in the very same slaughterhouses as animals raised for meat once no more profit can be squeezed out of them. So ultimately, there is no real ethical difference between the consumption of meat and the consumption of milk and eggs.

Organic animals are killed in the same slaughterhouses and face the same horrors as all other slaughter animals. The journalist Ingolf Bossenz put it in a nutshell by saying:.


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  8. People cuddling a dog with one hand while stuffing themselves on meat with the other hand are schizophrenic prototypes. For that reason, survival on Earth is in great danger. Even the German Federal Environmental Agency called on consumers to adopt a climate-conscious lifestyle and eat less meat. This would benefit not just our health but also the climate. He referred to studies that showed that the production of 1 kilogram of meat results in As early as , the UN organization FAO Food and Agriculture Organization found in a study that global animal farming was responsible for 18 per cent of all greenhouse gas emissions, i.

    I know from private conversations with UN employees that governments and lobbyists of the animal industries put the FAO under a lot of pressure after this study was published. Maybe this is why the FAO study does not include all the factors that would otherwise have led to a much higher contribution of animal farming to climate change. It finds that the consumption of meat, dairy products, fish and eggs is responsible for at least 51 per cent of worldwide greenhouse gas emissions caused by the human population!

    The extreme influence that animal farming has on climate change is just as incredible as a fact that seems to be quite odd at first glance: the main contributor to climate change, namely the consumption of animal products, is not mentioned in most statements, speeches, media articles and TV discussions. This is because almost all scientists, politicians and journalists consume animal products themselves. They know very well that climate change will be unlikely to affect any but the poorest developing countries and, after that, future generations.

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    Climate politics therefore are a pure sideshow without any real effects. Without combating the main contributor, climate change is unstoppable. Our planet will be destroyed because the majority of people place a higher value on an egoistic personal taste for animal products than they do on the integrity of the Earth and the welfare of future generations. To us, the question remains whether we want to participate in this crime or not. The populations of many fish species are about to collapse, and the oceans have been used extensively as dumping grounds for chemicals and plastics. Plenty of fish flesh is heavily laden with toxins, which makes the consumption of fish a serious human health risk.

    In consuming animal products, humans not only damage their own health, cruelly exploit animals and cause adults and children to starve, they also do massive damage to the environment, endangering their own survival. Humans saw off not only the branch they are sitting on but also the branch that their children and grandchildren are sitting on. Every consumer — each day at the dinner table — decides if he or she wants to support the destruction of our environment, the climate and the whole planet by consuming animal products. The following section is intended for people who believe in God independent of the religion.

    Because it is based on beliefs that all major religions except for Buddhism hold in common, it can apply to devotees of all religions. God gave people their bodies, their spirits and their health. God created a pristine world with all animals. All these awful things happen because of the consumption of meat, milk, cheese, eggs and other animal-derived products. People who take part in this system make a conscious decision to do so and to ignore all the facts enumerated in this booklet. If you consider the obvious facts, you are almost paralysed by the malice, ignorance, stupidity and selfishness of humankind.

    I feel unbearable pain and endless compassion for the most vulnerable beings who are victimised by humankind: starving children and cruelly tortured animals. Every day I vacillate between incredulity, anger and sadness when I am confronted with these daily crimes. I abhor the evil deeds and activities which make about 40, children die of hunger and malnutrition every day because plant foods are fed to suffering animals in order to obtain meat, milk and eggs.

    These animal products are guzzled by people who then develop typical diseases caused by animal products. Go vegan. You just change habits. It is the most effective method to make the most important contribution to save the climate, the environment, animals, human beings, and to contribute to your own health by peaceful means. More Links. Inhalt Vegan.

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