The
world over, the term "sacred cow" has
come to mean any stubborn loyalty to a long-standing
institution which impedes natural progress. The
term originates in India, where the cow is said
to be literally worshiped, while thousands of
humans suffer from undernourishment. The common,
popular view of India in the West is that of an
underdeveloped nation steeped in superstition.
Overpopulated, overcrowded, undereducated, and
bereft of most modern amenities, India is seen
to be a backward nation in many respects by "progressive"
Western civilization. "If only India would
abandon her religious superstitions and kill and
eat the cow!" Over several decades many attempts
have been made by the "compassionate"
West to alleviate unfortunate India's burden of
poor logic, and to replace her superstitions with
rational thinking.
Much of the religious West finds common ground
with the rationalists, with whom they otherwise
are usually at odds, on the issue of India's "sacred
cow." Indeed, worshiping God is one thing,
but to worship the cow while at the same time
dying of starvation is a theological outlook much
in need of reevaluation. Man is said to have dominion
over the animals, but it would appear that the
Indians have it backwards.
Popular opinion is not always the most informed
opinion; in fact, this is usually the case. The
many attempts to wean India from the nipple of
her outdated pastoral culture have all failed.
After 200 years of foreign occupation by the British,
and after many subsequent but less overt imperialistic
attempts, we find that although India has changed,
the sacred cow remains as sacred as ever. In all
but two Indian states, cow slaughter is strictly
prohibited. If legislation were passed today to
change that ruling, there would be rioting all
over India. In spite of considerable exposure
to Western ideas, one late Indian statesman said,
when asked what he thought of Western civilization,
"I think it is a good idea. When will they
begin?"
An unbiased look at perhaps the longest-standing
culture of the world, its roots and philosophy,
may help us to see things a little more as they
are — even about our own way of life. Sometimes
we have to stand back to get the full picture.
It is a natural tendency to consider one's own
way the best, but such bull-headedness may cause
us to miss seeing our own shortcomings. An honest
look at the headlines of our home town newspaper
may inspire us to question exactly what it is
we are so eager to propound.
Perhaps the most appalling aspect of the Western
technological influence on India is found in the
country's few "modern" cities. Bombay,
Calcutta, Delhi, and other cities can be most
frustrating to the average Westerner. Crude attempts
at modernization can be worse than none at all.
Although India's technology lacks the polish and
sophistication of the West, its employment in
crude fashion nonetheless brings all of the adverse
effects of a sophisticated form of the same amenities.
Real India is rural India. Village life accounts
for the bulk of India's population of 700 million,
and best illustrates the nation's ancient culture.
The simplicity of India is often mistaken for
ignorance, and her peacefulness mistaken for complacency.
The serenity of Indian village life is overlooked
or mislabeled by those who in the name of progress
may really only be operating under the axiom of
"misery loves company." Perhaps the
people of India live as they do for a good reason:
much of what goes along with Western "progress"—the
mental anguish which causes us to do the most
bizarre things that make many cities living hells—is
relatively absent in India's rural lifestyle.
It is particularly difficult for Westerners to
appreciate India's worship of the cow. After all,
we live in the land of the hamburger. The "American"
restaurant abroad is McDonald's. "Ole McDonald
had a farm /Did it ever grow!" Western economists
often contend that beef alone can solve India's
food problems and lay a foundation for a lucrative
export trade. This has caused cow worship and
cow protection to come under attack for centuries.
Cow protection has been called a "lunatic
obstacle" to sensible farm management.
India's cow is called the zebu, and an investigation
of the controversy surrounding her brings us to
the heart of village life in India. The average
landholder in India farms approximately one acre.
This is nowhere near enough land to warrant the
purchase of a tractor. Even if the size of the
land plots were increased to make the purchase
of machinery cost-effective, the unique weather,
a five-season year including the monsoon, would
quickly render the tractor useless. After the
monsoons, the soil is too soft for planting and
must be quickly and efficiently prepared before
the soon-to-follow intense heat brings an end
to the very short growing season. The loss of
even one day will considerably affect the overall
yield. The zebu bullocks are ideal in this connection
for they can easily plow the soft earth without
overly compacting the soil as would heavy machinery.
Farming in India is a family affair, and the labor-intensive
approach to cultivation involves everyone. This
helps to sustain the family unit, which is sometimes
considered to be the wealth of a nation. The staples
of the diet are grains: wheat and rice. Most of
India is vegetarian. While the bull plows the
field, helping to provide the grains, the cow
supplies milk from which many dairy products are
produced. Day to day, year after year, the cow
and bull are the center of rural Indian life.
According to Frances Moore Lappe in her best-seller,
Diet for a Small Planet, "For every
sixteen pounds of grain and soy fed to beef cattle
in the United States, we only get one pound back
in meat on our plates. The other fifteen pounds
are inaccessible to us, either used by the animal
to produce energy or to make some part of its
own body that we do not eat (like hair or bones),
or excreted. Milk production is more efficient,
with less than one pound of grain fed for every
pint of milk produced. (This is partly because
we don't have to grow a new cow every time we
milk one.)" If India, with its already strained
resources, were to allocate so much more acreage
for the production of beef, it would be disastrous.
Advocates of modernization maintain that with
the application of the latest farming techniques,
the yield per acre would gradually increase, thus
making it possible for beef to be introduced over
a period of time. Such advocates contend that
with the introduction of beef into the Indian
diet, the population's health would increase,
thus furthering productivity. However, it is interesting
to note that although India is far from being
free of disease, its principal health problems
are a result of urban overcrowding and inadequate
sanitation and medical facilities. Whereas high
blood pressure, heart disease, arthritis, and
cancer constitute the greatest health threats
in the West, the Indian people are practically
free from these afflictions. So the "fact"
that India's health would increase with the introduction
of beef into the diet is not likely to overcome
the "superstition" of the people's religious
beliefs which prohibit them from eating meat.
The religious "superstitions" of India
are based on the Vedas, which constitute the most
voluminous body of literature in the world. The
Vedas and their corollaries deal elaborately with
theism, describing many gradations of the theistic
idea. The idea that one should not eat meat, although
central to Hindu philosophy, is only a secondary
theme. To a large extent it amounts only to common
sense and sensitivity. It is from this basis of
sensitivity, an indicator of healthy consciousness,
that higher spiritual principles can be appreciated.
Actually, the Vedas agree with the West's contention
that man has dominion over the animals; however,
the West's way of dealing with its dependents
is revolting to Indians. After all, we have dominion
over our children and ofttimes elders as well,
but would we be justified in slaughtering them
for food? We become incensed if someone even abuses
our dog!
The Vedas do not teach that the cow is superior
to the human form of life and therefore worshipable.
Rather, the she gives so much practical help to
human society that she should be protected. Her
assistance frees mankind from much of the struggle
of life, thereby providing us with more time for
spiritual pursuits. Although modern technology
may be said to do the same, the fact is that it
actually complicates man's life more and more
and distracts him from more simple living and
high spiritual thinking. We may become so mechanistic
that we can fool ourselves into believing that
cows or pets have no feelings.
For India, the cow represents the sacred principle
of motherhood. She symbolizes charity and generosity
because of the way she distributes her milk, which
is essential for the nourishment of the young.
India's critics have pointed out that although
Indian village life may be simple, it is a marginal
existence; it is a life of little surplus. If
a farmer's cow turns barren, he has lost his only
chance of replacing the work team. And if she
goes dry, the family loses its milk and butter.
However the situation is not as bad as the technologically
advanced may think. In village life, people are
more interdependent. Helping one's neighbor is
also considered sacred. Sharing is commonplace.
All of the father's male friends are affectionately
referred to by the sons and daughters as "uncle",
while all of the village women are seen as mother.
Often the responsibility of caring for and nursing
the young is shared by several mothers.
Perhaps the heaviest criticism of the pastoral
culture of India is directed at the insistence
of the farmers on protecting even sick and aged
cows. Westerners find this to be the height of
absurdity. At least they could be killed and eaten
or sold. But no. Animal hospitals or nursing homes
called goshallas, provided by government agencies
or wealthy individuals in search of piety, offer
shelter for old and infirm cows. This is thought
to be a luxury that India cannot really afford,
as these "useless" cows are seen to
be but competitors for the already limited croplands
and precious foodstuffs. The fact is, however,
that India actually spends a great deal less on
their aging cattle than Americans spend on their
cats and dogs. And India's cattle population is
six times that of the American pet population.
The Indian farmer sees his cattle like members
of the family. Since the farmers depend on the
cattle for their own livelihood, it makes perfect
sense both economically and emotionally to see
to their well-being. In between harvests, the
cattle are bathed and spruced up much like the
average American polishes his automobile. Twice
during the year, special festivals are held in
honor of the cows. These rituals are similar to
the American idea of Thanksgiving. Although in
principle the same, there is a basic difference
in the details of how we treat the turkey and
how the more "primitive" Indians treat
their cows.
India cares for over 200 million zebus. This accounts
for one-fifth of the world's cattle population.
Critics say that if India does not eat her cows,
the cows will eat India. Exasperated critics feel
that even the cow is underfed. However, in more
recent years, India's critics have come to agree
that she is essential to India's economy. Cattle
are India's greatest natural resource. They eat
only grass --which grows everywhere--and generates
more power than all of India's generating plants.
They also produce fuel, fertilizer, and nutrition
in abundance. India runs on bullock power. Some
15 million bullock carts move approximately 15
billion tons of goods across the nation. Newer
studies in energetics have shown that bullocks
do two-thirds of the work on the average farm.
Electricity and fossil fuels account for only
10%. Bullocks not only pull heavy loads, but also
grind the sugarcane and turn the linseed oil presses.
Converting from bullocks to machinery would cost
an estimated $30 billion plus maintenance and
replacement costs.
The biggest energy contribution from cows and
bulls is their dung. India's cattle produce 800
million tons of manure every year. The Vedas explain
that dung from cows is different from all other
forms of excrement. Indian culture insists that
if one comes in contact with the stool of any
other animal, they must immediately take a bath.
Even after passing stool oneself, bathing is necessary.
But the cow's dung, far from being contaminating,
instead possesses antiseptic qualities. This has
been verified by modern science. Not only is it
free from bacteria, but it also does a good job
of killing them. Believe it or not, it is every
bit as good an antiseptic as Lysol or Mr. Clean.
Most of the dung is used for fertilizer at no
cost to the farmer or to the world's fossil fuel
reserves. The remainder is used for fuel. It is
odorless and burns without scorching, giving a
slow, even heat. A housewife can count on leaving
her pots unattended all day or return any time
to a preheated griddle for short-order cooking.
To replace dung with coal would cost India $1.5
billion per year.
Dung is also used for both heating and cooling.
Packed on the outside walls of a house, in winter
it keeps in the heat, and in summer produces a
cooling effect. Also, unlike the stool of humans,
it keeps flies away , and when burned, its smoke
acts as a repellent for mosquitoes.
When technocrats were unable to come up with a
workable alternative, they came up with a new
argument for modernization. They suggested that
the cattle culture be maintained, but that it
should be done in a more efficient manner. Several
ambitious programs were initiated using pedigree
bulls and artificial insemination. But the new
hybrids were not cheap nor were they able to keep
up the pace with the zebus. The intense heat of
India retired many of them well before old age.
Although they produced more milk, this also created
more problems, because there was no efficient
system for distributing the surplus of milk throughout
India's widespread population.
India's system of distribution is highly decentralized.
Although the solution seemed simple, modernization
again met its shortcomings. With bottling plants,
pasteurization, and other sophisticated Western
methods of distribution, it was thought that all
of India could have fresh, pure milk. Behind the
automats set up for the distribution of powdered
milk, milk, and cream was the expectation that
in time, people would begin to appreciate the
abundant rewards bestowed by these new modern
deities of technology, and worship of cows would
gradually disappear. But in the end it was modernization
that failed to prove its value.
Pasteurization proved to be a waste of time and
money for Indians, who generally drink their milk
hot, and thus boil it before drinking. With the
absence of modern highways and the cost of milking
machines and other necessities of factory dairy
farming, it was seen to be impractical to impose
the Western dairy system on India; the cost of
refrigeration alone would make the price of milk
too expensive for 95% of India's population.
Eventually, after repeated attempts to modernize
India's approach to farming—and in particular
its attitude toward its beloved zebus—it
became clear that these technological upgrades
were not very well thought out. They were not
to replace a system that had endured for thousands
of years; a system not only economically wise,
but one that was part of a spiritually rich heritage.
On the contrary, it may well be time to export
the spiritual heritage of India to the West, where
technology continues to threaten the tangible
progress of humanity in its search for the deeper
meaning of life.