Jean Messeroux
Consider the Lobster Rough Draft
Despite all of the differences and diversities within the human race, we all share one universal
flaw: We’re selfish. Throughout the history of human existence, people have been striving to
satisfy their own personal needs at the expense of others. Judas sold out Jesus for thirty pieces of
silver, Europeans enslaved Africans for productivity, Columbus seized America from the Native
Americans, etc, etc. Human selfishness is the reason why you buy a new pair of Nike’s, but
ignore the fact that children in sweat shops suffer for your fashion preference. Or why your wife
wants a diamond ring, while knowing that families in Africa are slaughtered in diamond mines.
As members of an individualistic society, we are brought up with the notion that our own well
being must be our first (and sometimes only) priority. As a result, most of our daily decisions are
purposed for our own satisfaction. For those of you who doubt this, ask yourselves: What would
I rather spend thirty dollars on? A few gallons of gas to fill my car, or the homeless man begging
for change next to the gas station? If you identify with the first, my point is proven.
Selfishness even controls the simpler processes of our lives, such as how we prepare and eat our
food. David Foster Wallace, in Consider the Lobster, explores this example of human greed
through the Maine Lobster Festival, where lobsters are captured and cruelly boiled as a tradition
to entertain tourists. He poses a sarcastic, in-depth discussion of the brutality of this event, and
ultimately challenges readers to ponder the ethics of lobster eating.
Wallace’s main appeal to his readers is developed by his vivid descriptions of the actual process
of preparing the lobster. He illustrates the suffering felt by these creatures through the grim
stages of capture, a draft, and boiling. In one report, the writer characterizes the lobster “as if it’s
in terrible pain, causing some cooks to leave the kitchen altogether and to take one of those little
lightweight plastic oven-timers with them into another room and wait until the whole process is
over.” (310) In depicting such an emotional and cowardly reaction taken by the cooks, Wallace
forces readers to reflect on their own conscience, and whether they can continue to enjoy eating a
tortured animal. Moreover, he goes on to form an analogy between the preparation of lobster and
the gruesome Roman circus: “The truth is, that if you, the festival attendee, permit yourself to
think that lobsters can suffer and would rather not, the MLF begins to take on the aspect of
something like a Roman circus or medieval torture-fest.” (313) Through this comparison, David
Wallace thoroughly forces his readers to challenge their morals in observing the lobster eating
tradition.
Wallace also equips sarcasm to his descriptions to further convince his readers of the effects of
their selfishness. In creating sarcasm, he causes readers to feel guilt for their actions. An example
of this strategy can be taken from a passage where Wallace satirically explores whether “lobsters
are more like those frontal-lobotomy patients one reads about who report experiencing pain in a
totally different way than you and I.” (312) In this context, the writer challenges those who claim
that lobsters don’t feel the pain when they are boiled. Wallace argues that the damage is still
taking place, regardless of whether or not lobsters feel it. The view that they don’t feel pain is
only a selfish excuse for those who take part in eating lobster, in order to continue their savage
tradition. This counter argument can also be compared to my earlier question of what you would
rather spend thirty dollars on. Most who would ignore the homeless man and spend their money
on gas would argue that aside from the gas being important for their car, they would refuse to
share their money with the beggar, because he might waste it on cigarettes, drugs or alcohol. In
actuality, they are not genuinely concerned for the benefit of the homeless man, but rather
develop this theory to relieve their consciences. Lobster consumers are practicing a similar
evasion by convincing themselves that the killing of lobsters is harmless to the animals.
Wallace’s connection to the frontal-lobotomy patients also forces readers to sympathize more
with the lobsters, as the writer identifies the crustaceans with fellow humans.
Another example of the writer’s cutting sarcasm can be drawn from his description of how the
lobsters react to being boiled. Ironically, he suggests that, “the lobster’s behavior in the kettle
appears to be the expression of a preference; and it may well be that an ability to form
preferences is the decisive criterion for real suffering.” (312) Here, Wallace manipulates the
word, preference to communicate the relationship between the lobsters’ suffering and the global
results of selfishness. In a simpler context, human greed or our desire for personal comfort are
the causes of suffering.
Since youth we have been trained to look out for ourselves. Even in our farewells, we often say
“take care of yourself,” implying that self indulgence is most important. With such deeply
imbedded selfishness, it is difficult to empathize even with fellow humans, much less to have
consideration for the creatures we eat. David Wallace’s essay is not a mere effort to stop people
from eating lobster, but rather it serves to inspire readers in realizing that other lives are equally
important. Whether you’re buying sneakers, filling your gas tank, getting your spouse a coveted
gem, or simply eating a plate of lobster, you must evaluate whether your benefit is worth
another’s suffering.