Bugs: It's What's for Dinner

In its May 2015 issue, The Walrus published "Bugging You," a brief-ish profile of the Goldin Brothers of Next Millennium Farms out of Campbellford, Ontario. It wasn't the first time I had heard of them. In March I was doing some research on the state of entomophagy (the practice of eating insects) in Canada, and Next Millennium Farms is one of the big players in the country. The Goldins currently breed crickets and mealworms for human consumption, in forms ranging from protein powder, to cricket flour, to whole, roasted and seasoned insects as part of their Bug Bistro line. 

I was a little surprised at how little the author and the Goldin's discussed the ethical issues that the widespread adoption of entomophagy could theoretically answer. The discussion was limited to a single sentence on the relatively minimal ecological impact that rearing crickets has when compared to traditional livestock. In producing more edible "meat" per kilogram of feed, insects as a food source appear to be much easier on the environment than the usual fare. According to a recent study, however, crickets might not be the environmental panacea that we had previously hoped for, only performing minimally better than poultry in feed conversion ratios (FCRs). While crickets aren't entirely off the table yet (more research still has to be done), plenty of other insect species could very well prove to have low enough FCRs to make them a sustainable option. Better still, it might prove possible to raise edible insects on alternative feed sources, such as waste, or organic side-streams.

Beyond the potential ecological advantages that may come with switching to a bug-based diet, entomophagy carries with it few of the animal welfare concerns that come with eating more psychologically developed animals (pigs, cows, dogs). Without going down the rabbit hole and discussing the philosophy of pain, consciousness, and so on, I'll just say that it's likely that insects don't experience anything close to what we know as "suffering." Instinctively, I have much fewer qualms with the idea of killing a bug than I do with killing a mammal. But maybe I'm just a different kind of classist

The Long Road to Vegetarianism

I'm working on another long piece similar to the Uber essay, this time on the ethics of eating meat and our evolving attitudes on the subject. It's something that I often try to not think about too hard, which is maybe the same attitude that society in general takes on. If you think too hard about anything, really, you can ruin it for yourself. All the more so when the subject in question is the taking of lives of animals so in order to eat their bodies. 

In thinking about all this, I was reminded of an episode of Philosophy Bites that was released almost exactly five years ago. Philosophy Bites is a cool little podcast featuring interviews with top philosophers about their work and the big ideas that they grapple with. The episode in question featured Jeff McMahan, currently the White's Professor of Moral Philosophy at Oxford, but back then he was at Rutgers. I had encountered his work before in some of my courses and found his writing quite compelling, but the essays that I had read were mostly about abortion and other bioethical issues. Now, he was being questioned about his views on Vegetarianism

He laid out his argument for not eating meat like this:

  1. The suffering of animals is morally significant.

  2. The pleasure of animals is morally significant.

  3. Whatever goods we derive from eating meat are negligible compared to the harms caused to the animals from which the meat is derived.

  4. We shouldn't eat meat.

A few things should be noted. First, the fact that animal suffering matters is obvious and clearly makes factory farming and the conditions that go with it morally reprehensible. Second, this is not an absolute argument against eating meat. If eating meat is necessary, really necessary, to your survival, then the balance of harms and benefits would shift and you could justify killing an animal. Likewise, if you accidentally hit a deer with your car, rather than wasting the meat you could eat it with a clear conscience.

I found McMahan's argument convincing when I first heard it. So convincing, in fact, that I became a vegan... For a week. After that, I tried to reason my way out of it. "My meat consumption doesn't make a difference," was the main mode of argument. "The meat in the grocery store is going to go to waste if I don't buy it. It'll be thrown out." Probably not true. And though I'm just one person, the collective effect of many people going meatless would be noticed, and to get people to convert you have to do it yourself. But more importantly, I also decided that the pleasure of animals probably really wasn't all that important. I started eating meat again, and I stopped worrying about it. 

Recently, I've started to become more food conscious again. I'm turned off by the idea of factory farms, and I don't buy meat products from stores likely to be supplied by them. Sad meat tastes bad. And now I'm left with that other side of the argument. How important are the good experiences that animals have? Even if the meat you eat doesn't come from an animal that led a pained existence, is it ok to kill them? Or do the future good experiences that that animal could have outweigh your right to a meat based meal? It seems chauvinistic to assume that the fleeting pleasure of eating meat can be more valuable than a few good years of life on the farm.

It seems like more and more of my friends are becoming either vegetarians or vegans. I've started to flirt with the idea again, but a part of me is still not entirely convinced. That being said, as time goes on, I can see my meat consumption very gradually falling. Maybe one day I'll get there, or perhaps there's a happy middle ground to be found, like eating weird offcuts and things that would otherwise be thrown out. I do love a good blood cake

First Things First

For the last eight weeks I've been taking a creative non-fiction class, one of the offerings from U of T's School of Continuing Studies. The instructor was Michael Harris (same guy whose book I mentioned in the last post), and there were about ten other students in the class, ranging from recent grads, like myself, to people a little further along in life. Tonight we had the final session, and I can easily say that I'm going to miss our weekly gatherings.

The experience was kind of perfect for me at this point in my life; a good way to flex the creative muscles and set me on a path. The class was my first real step in the long process that is (hopefully) going to be my career. At the start of 2014, I wrote down a list of things I wanted to get done in that year, and it turned out to be fairly effective. Graduate: check. Backpack through South America: check. Learn Spanish: kind-of check. And so on. Each goal had a set of smaller, bite-sized goals, and from those I would choose the easiest and most immediate step. The idea is that you work from one bite-sized goal to another, and at the end you've done the main thing that you set out to do. Based on the success of last year, I thought I'd try the same thing again. But this time around I didn't put a list together till March, and instead of backpacking through South America, I want a career.  

So I took a class on creative non-fiction. And it was good! I got some advice, and I read some key pieces from the last half century that I wouldn't have thought to read on my own (Gay Talese's "Frank Sinatra has a Cold," Jimmy Breslin's "Digging JFK grave was his honor"). I learned that I write best in the morning, after coffee and before breakfast, and that I shouldn't expect to earn a hell of a lot of money from this. I wrote something personal and allowed it to be read by my peers, critiqued, workshopped— a process that was both sickening and exhilarating. 

The task, now, is to stay the course. Keep writing (obviously), and start sending that writing to people who will pay you for it. Now that I'm done the class, I now have a piece that I can maybe convince somebody to publish. And if that doesn't work out, you know where you can find it

What to Do with Uber?

Uber, the ride-hailing service that connects passengers to drivers, has managed to make a lot of enemies in its relatively brief existence. Taxis feel like they are being unfairly robbed of business. Drivers complain they are being exploited. Passengers decry perceived price-gouging. Last year, the City of Toronto filed a legal action against Uber, claiming that its operations are in contravention with the law, and demanded that it be shut down. On June 1, proceedings will begin to decide the future of Uber in Toronto. 

In an opinion piece to the Toronto Star, Daniel Debow, Senior Vice President of the global cloud computing company, Salesforce, wrote that the current debate over Uber in Toronto presents a false dichotomy between the adoption of existing taxi rules and the unregulated “wild west” that operates now. A third option, one taken up by cities such as Washington, Seattle, and Dallas, is the creation of a new body of legislation specifically tasked with regulating ride-sharing. If adopted here, the new rules would “require drivers to get background checks, training, vehicle inspections and appropriate insurance.” In short, regulation equals safer rides. For their part, Uber (unsurprisingly) favours the prospect of regulation over litigation. But regulation or no, Uber’s position in the Toronto market is not as secure as it might seem.

*

Last month I used UberX in Toronto for the first time. UberX is the service that has attracted the company the majority of its critics. Distinct from UberBlack or UberTaxi, which connect riders to rides from already regulated, professional drivers, UberX provides access to rides from regular folk in their everyday cars.  I’d had my Uber account for months, but hadn’t used it since the first day I downloaded it. It was during a road trip through the States with a couple of friends. We were spending the night in Chicago, staying in a cheap motel on the North side of the city, drinking warm (and wonderfully inexpensive) beer. We needed a way to get to Wrigley Field in time to see the Cubs, and someone brought up the option of Uber. One friend gave me his referral code, I tapped it into my phone, and we both received a credit for a free ride worth up to thirty dollars, more than enough to get us to the game and back at the end of the night. 

My return to the app six months later was the result of a hold up on the TTC; some sort of passenger disturbance had shut down service going west past St. George Station. My brother had met me for dinner and a couple of drinks, and we were in a rush to get home so that he could submit an application for a study abroad program before the midnight deadline. Given the time constraint and my lack of patience for TTC delays, we said the hell with it and sprang for an Uber. 

I confirmed the pick up details on my phone and within minutes Larry pulled up in his minivan. The car didn’t smell and the floor was clean— a good start. Larry was nice, but disengaged. When he spoke about his work outside of Uber he came across like a kid reluctantly telling us about his day at school. His speech was absentminded, distracted. (To be fair, he was driving at the time.) I wanted to get to another subject, one that had been on my mind since Chicago. Given the relatively low fares riders are being charged, how much money can drivers actually be making? And following from that, should we be tipping our drivers?

In general, Uber passengers do not tip. One of Uber’s selling points is that it’s a cashless system. You input your credit card details into the app when you sign up, and that’s it. Whenever you want a ride you put in your location and you receive real-time updates on when your car will arrive. The driver hits a button at the start and end of the trip, and your card is automatically charged. It’s clean and it’s quick. But it’s a hassle for people that want to leave something extra, as Uber has yet to add a tip option in the app. They’re official stance is that tipping is unnecessary. Yet in a society where we routinely tip members in service jobs (taxi drivers, servers, bellhops), the no-tip default can easily lead to confusion—and discomfort. Larry confirmed that, no, people usually don’t tip, although you have the option to leave cash if you want to. This led him into a diatribe against Uber practices in general. He told me how, nowadays, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to earn decent money driving for Uber. 

It’s something we’re beginning to hear more and more. Despite Uber’s claims that their driver partners average out at earning $19/hr (this is in the US), that figure doesn’t account for expenses such as maintenance, insurance, gas, or even the car. Not only that, driver’s have been subjected to repeated price cuts, which eat away at their bottom line. 

Introduced in Canada for the first time this winter, Uber argues that price cuts drive up rider demand for the service. And that may be true. In polls completed by Forum Research, the proportion of Torontonians who have used the service have risen to 17 percent, up from just 12 in November. Increasing demand is then supposed to translate to more trips per hour for drivers, thereby upping their income from the service. Yet as shown in a report put out at Philadelphia City Paper recently, while gross fares being brought in by drivers appear to be higher, after Uber deducts its portion of the earnings, drivers are taking home significantly less than they were prior to cuts, but doing more work. In her investigation, reporter Emily Guendelsberger drove over 100 rides and brought in an average of only $9.34/hour. 

At the end of my ride with Larry I was automatically billed for the trip. My brother and I hopped out, and before closing the door I handed Larry a five, seemingly taking him by surprise. He took it, though, and as he drove off I turned to my brother.

“I couldn’t very well not tip him after all that.”

*

You don’t have to Google very hard to find other examples of current and former Uber drivers denouncing the company. Uber has a knack for distancing itself from its user base. It’s just that, before the cuts, the complaining was usually coming from the passenger’s seat. On July 8, 2013, Toronto suffered from severe thunderstorms that threw down over 100mm of rain, turning transportation in and around the city into a nightmare. Highways, subway tunnels, and train tracks were overrun by flooding. Fourteen hundred people had to be rescued from a GO train that got stranded in the Don Valley. Meanwhile, as demand for rides rose, rates for UberBlack (the only Uber service available in Toronto at the time) shot up. People were pissed.

Similar surge-pricing has occurred in a number of Uber markets from time to time, and each one results in the same predictable backlash from the passengers. To them, price-surges look like little more than gouging your customers when they need you most. In general, the company's response has been that the institution of surge pricing is a good thing, in that it incentivizes more drivers to get out on the road and rewards them for driving when nobody else wants to (e.g. during a blizzard, or on New Year’s Eve). 

In hindsight, it’s tempting to laugh at the thought of people moaning about being stuck in the rain, angrily tapping their phones as if they’re the only things that can save them. But there is at least one case in recent history where Uber’s surge-pricing was obviously wildly inappropriate. On December 15, 2014, a lone gunman entered a Lindt Café in Sydney’s central business district, holding staff and customers hostage in a siege that lasted sixteen hours and ended with the gunman and two hostages dead. As the situation became known to the public, the area around the café was evacuated. It wasn’t clear if there were going to be other attacks, and people scrambled to get away from possible danger. The jump in demand for rides out of the CBD plugged into Uber’s algorithm, resulting in highly inflated rates for people that were literally running for their lives. Naturally, that didn’t go over well. Although Uber— incredibly— initially defended the price-surges, they soon backed down and went on to cover the costs of all rides out of the CBD and refund those who were overcharged

The events in Sydney revealed a company that is still in its adolescence, operating with little regard or foresight into how its actions affect those around it. Uber has often maintained an infamously indifferent attitude to the majority of its users, and a strongly adversarial relationship with those that threaten its expansion. When competitor Lyft was going through a round of fundraising, Uber intentionally tried to undercut their efforts. Now, preparing to face down with the City of Toronto in court, Uber has missed an opportunity to collaborate. Lyft isn’t making that mistake. The rival company has been reaching out to regulatory bodies across the US, and now in Toronto, to work with them in crafting rules that suit the unique nature of the ride-hailing business. 

Lyft doesn’t yet service Toronto, and Uber generally remains the best deal in town. Sooner or later, though, ride-hailing services will receive the regulation that people are demanding, and the competition will come. The question is, when that happens, will Uber have any friends left?

Hello, World!

Hello, and welcome. I don't know how you did it, but you made it here. And where are we, exactly? Good question. At the moment at which I'm writing this, it's just an empty room. The walls are bare, the floors clear. The sounds of my footsteps echo off of each surface and bounce their way back to my ears. Hopefully, though, by the time that you're reading this I'll have had a chance to warm the place up a bit. Make my mark, so to speak. 

I find it a little strange that I'm putting this site together at this particular moment. For the past couple of weeks I've been passing my time on the subway to and from work by reading The End of Absencea book that argues that modern technology, with all it's power to connect us with each other and the boundless information present on the internet, has quietly, without our noticing, taken away something precious. Michael Harris (the author, and yes, the instructor of a class I'm currently taking—no, he didn't make us buy the book) argues that in exchange for our constant connection we are forfeiting absence. Absence is idle day dreaming and quiet contemplation. It's the step back from the action necessary for meaningful thought.  It's refuge from the world that constantly reaches out to you from your devices, blinking, screaming, needing your attention like demanding little robot baby that refuses to be satisfied. 

Harris points out various problems that are starting to crop up in our tech-saturated lives and offers advice for how we might regain the absence that we seem to have lostNow, with all these themes whirling around in my head, you can understand how strange I feel in launching a website. But although I haven't yet finished the book, I'm pretty sure that the conclusion it'll comes to is not that we should all adopt a Luddite lifestyle and head for the hills, abandoning our smartphones and laptops for quaint and quiet country living. As with most things, living meaningfully with technology requires finding a balance. Tech can obviously have greatly beneficial applications, and although I make no claims to greatness, here I'm at least attempting to lean more in that direction. 

Here you'll find my writing. Half blog, half archive of things by me around the web, consider this my official foray into the "real world" of writing. Thanks for stopping by. 

 

Sam