Planet ISKCON

Myths and fantasies are an essential part of ordinary human culture. Through science fiction, legends, and fairy tales, the mundane imagination soars, unfettered by reality.

But here's one daydream Krishna's devotees, in the real world of bhakti, can do without: we spiritually benefit the condemned cow by offering its milk to Krishna.  

First of all, let's avoid a straw-man response that often pops out of the closet when the milk issue arises: "Hmmm . . . I smell  . . . veganism! You are advocating a concoction, in a spiritual culture wherein milk plays such a central role."

Let's brush that diversion aside. Though well-intentioned, it's far off the point. The issue is certainly not veganism or banning milk, but whether we should exercise spiritual discrimination in choosing from where we source our milk.

Without criticising those opting for the non-selective approach to their dairy products, an increasing number of devotees, both junior and very senior, feel strongly motivated to:

1) drink only milk from protected cows

2) avoid implication in the cow-slaughter industry

3) actively seek ahimsa milk solutions

4) remind devotees of Srila Prabhupada's vision of ISKCON farms supplying milk to ISKCON centres.

Too often, though, ready to relieve our milk-loving society from any angst or disquietude, a folk tale sincerely issues forth: the dead cow has benefitted by our offering its milk to Krishna.

At the recent GBC meeting in Mayapur, four GBC-persons, while making an official presentation on ISKCON's need for ahimsa milk, also dealt with the "graced-though-dead" notion.

Take the USA, for example. Aside from the 32 million cows, bulls, steers, and calves slaughtered annually, the USA has 9 million dairy cows on their feet, giving milk. 

Please tell me, when you offer your milk, which is the cow that has benefitted by giving that milk? 

Visit any dairy processing plant and you will see technology blending milk from thousands upon thousands of cows, the number increasing as the centralisation of the dairy industry mounts. In Canada, for example, now just 3 processing plants handle 80% of Canadian milk.

Consider the case of cow X. Alive for the usual 3 to 5 years, dairy cow X will never see its normal 20-year lifespan. Somehow cow X may—I repeat—may have been able to contribute a droplet to the milk that happened to find its way to your temple or home altar. Now really . . . can we please reconsider the "benefit legend" . . . 

The UN's Food and Agriculture Organization says this planet has 260 million dairy cows. The UK has 1.8 million; Australia, 1.6 million; Canada, almost 1 million.

Let's pick on New Zealand, a place famed for its top quality milk products. The Kiwis milk 4.6 million dairy cows, which annually produce 19.1 billion litres of milk for processing. Please find for me the cow that contributed the specific milk you offered?

Consider a few extrapolations, elastically based on shastra. The dust of the feet of devotees is spiritually invaluable. Therefore all pedestrians who tread an avenue where great devotees have walked now accrue spiritual credits? They benefit from the dust of Vaishnavas' feet? 

Okay, you say these pedestrians weren't walking barefoot; nor did they put the dust on their head. Consequently they don't really get the mercy. But haven't they "followed in the footsteps" of the great souls?

That's stretching things too much, you reply? How about this: besides the dust of the feet, the water that washed the feet of devotees is another treasure of bhakti. 

Some devotees exercise by swimming in large public pools. Certainly some of the chlorinated pool water that envelops their feet then, throughout the day, flows over the submerged heads of other swimmers in the pool. What benefit unknowingly bestowed upon everyone in that Olympic sized pool! Though the pool contains 2,500,000 litres (648,000 gallons) of water, eventually recycled, surely some droplets of mercy will contact my head. And just think how I'd be benefitted . . . if some of the pool water . . . trickles into my mouth. After all, blended with the 2,500,000 litres of pool water must be a drop of holiness. 

Some of us old-timers remember way back in the early 70s when devotees, motoring past seemingly endless cornfields in the American midwest, would decide to stop and offer to Krishna a whole cornfield, as far as they could see. Convinced they had transformed all the countless rows of corn into prasada, the fledgling devotees rejoiced at how they had struck a blow against maya and uplifted the world. 

Other senior devotees recall enthusiastic cohorts who offered entire supermarkets to Krishna—mentally subtracting the meat, fish, and eggs. "Unknowingly all the shoppers will take home krishna-prasada!"

Outrageous, you say? I agree. Let's consider the fantasised benefits to the millions of slaughtered cows in the same way.

Moreover, don't forget that not only female calves but also male calves take birth, all to be killed sooner or later. How does our imagined ocean of mercy apply to the males, whether the ones allowed to mature, for steaks and hamburgers, or the newborns killed almost immediately, for delicate veal cuisine?

Back to living in the USA, we see that out of the total of 32 million cattle slaughtered yearly, approximately half the dead are male. How can we hallucinate "bhakti benefit" for them? And 760,000 of the total annual kill are little calves, the "vealers" or "bobby calves," as they are known in various parts of the dairy world.

City people take note: to produce milk, a dairy cow needs to be either pregnant or nursing. Therefore the mothers are made to birth a calf each year until their milk production falls below profitable levels. That means 3 to 5 years. Once the mother's yearly gifts slip—in Australia, below 4,500 litres (1188 gallons)—she dies. 

Most of the male calves and some females are "surplus" to the farmer’s needs. This "excess" or "unwanted byproduct" cannot remain alive. You see, dairy calves do not grow as fast as beef calves, and their flesh, when mature, is considered unsatisfactory quality to justify the expense farmers would have paid to maintain them.  

Immediately after birth, the "bobby calves" are removed from their mother and hand-fed. At merely 5 days old, they ride to the slaughterhouse, regardless of the hardships of the journey.

In Australia, the dairy industry allows these 5-day-old newborns to be unfed for 30 hours and transported for up to 12 hours, to be killed. 

We should note that the animal humane society in Australia, the RSPCA, advocates compassion, urging farmers to increase the death-wait of calves from 5 days after birth to 10. The RSPCA also promotes heightened sensitivity: slaughter the newborns within 12 hours of their last feed rather than 30. Mercy in the Age of Darkness.

Without fear of condemnation, bhakti practitioners should make an informed personal choice about how and whether to cope with the milk problem. Regardless of our chosen option, please, let's retire the tragic tale about the slaughtered cow receiving spiritual benefit when her milk is offered.