Pathway to Japanese Literature

On September 4th of last year, I attended the Vegetarian Grand Festival held in the small mountain village of Hiltey on Newfoundland Island, representing all Japanese believers. Now, as many of you may know, we Vegetarians are a collective united by the principle of abstaining from animal-based substances—translated as “vegetarian” in Japanese, though this term carries a weightier implication than merely denoting adherence to a dietary “ism.” If we were to translate it as “vegetarian believers,” that might verge on excessive zeal, but I believe it aligns more truthfully with reality than calling them mere “ideologists.” Of course, there are various factions within our ranks, but broadly speaking in terms of their ethos, they may be divided into two: the sympathy faction and the prevention faction.

This name was coined mockingly by outsiders, but since it captures the essence so effectively, we have adopted it without hesitation. The so-called sympathy faction—we ourselves belong to this group—is a philosophy that holds, much like in Buddhism, that all animals cherish their lives no differently than we do. For one person to survive by taking and eating the lives of other animals—not just once a day but hundreds or thousands of times—and to remain unbothered by this is entirely due to our lack of consideration. If we truly put ourselves in the place of those being eaten, it becomes too pitiful to do such a thing; this is the belief it proclaims. However, the prevention faction differs slightly in that their principle is actually to avoid consuming animal-based substances as much as possible for disease prevention. In other words, if one consumes too much meat or dairy, various adverse effects arise—rheumatism, gout, malignant swellings, and so forth—so those who find such diseases repugnant or are predisposed to them join this alliance. Therefore, the people of this faction make butter and cheese from beans, build vegetarian hospitals, and engage in various other activities.

So far, we had broadly divided Vegetarians into two groups based on their underlying philosophies. However, when classifying them instead by their practical methods of implementation, they fell into three categories. First were those who held the belief that animal-based substances must not be consumed at all—that is to say, not only beasts, fish, and all meats but also milk and products made from it such as cheese and butter, even confections like castella cakes containing chicken eggs; in Japan, this extended to prohibiting even dishes containing a trace of bonito broth. This method existed among both the sympathy and prevention factions, but the majority of those who practiced it were from the prevention faction. The second category held that items like cheese, butter, milk, and eggs—well, since they didn’t involve taking lives—were permissible, and as they weren’t particularly harmful to the body either, this constituted a relatively moderate approach. Third was the category we belonged to: even if we rigorously avoided taking lives and kept ourselves pristine, it meant nothing if other creatures suffered in practice. Ultimately, we abstained from eating them out of pity for their plight. There was no need to scrutinize every trivial detail, go through cumbersome efforts, or impose on others to such extremes. If sacrificing one life became truly necessary to save many others, then it was permissible to consume it—even if done through tears—provided that should that one life ever be our own, we must not shy away from offering it. This was what we declared. However, since such extreme cases were truly, truly rare, in daily life we must of course strive to consume plants and avoid killing animals. Above all, we declared, we must not become so preoccupied with keeping our own conscience pure that we forget the essential spirit.

Now that you had gained a general understanding of Vegetarians' essential nature, I would proceed to recount last year's Grand Festival events in detail.

I arrived at the port of Trinity in Newfoundland exactly two days before the Grand Festival. As it turned out, what I had feared might not arrive in time proceeded quite smoothly, which delighted me greatly. I became acquainted with six people from Turkey aboard the ship. Their delegation leader was a geology professor. The plan was that after participating in the Grand Festival, all six of them would immediately set out to explore Canada’s northern frontier. Upon disembarking from the ship, we promptly prepared our travel gear and set out for Hilltey Village. In truth, when I departed Japan, I had assumed that once I even reached Newfoundland, everyone’s eyes would naturally turn toward that village called Hilltey—that travelers gathered from across the world would traipse that way in droves, making the path immediately apparent.

However, while I had by chance become acquainted with all six Turks aboard the ship, when we actually disembarked and looked around Trinity town, there were no such posters displayed anywhere, nor a single soul who even mentioned the name Hilltey—in truth, I found this somewhat unexpected. [Several manuscript pages missing]

We left the town and took a small path along the white cliffs of the coast. As the sky was overcast, the Atlantic appeared like thinly rusted tinplate; the autumn wind raised white wave crests, and numerous small fishing boats sailed in rows through them. The lower branches of the larch trees had already turned brown. The Turks went along, striking rocks on the path with their hammers and chattering noisily among themselves. I walked alone behind them, carrying an empty trunk. When we had walked for about an hour and a half, we came to the summit of a pass along the sea.

“We should be able to see Hilltey Village now.” The delegation leader, a geology professor, came up to me and said in English while examining the map.

We gazed attentively ahead. At the bottom of a valley thickly covered with Japanese cypress trees, five or six white walls were visible, and into that valley, the sea extended like a fjord, a deep blue intrusion.

“Is that Hilltey Village?” I asked the delegation leader. The delegation leader was intently comparing the map with the terrain before his eyes, but after some time passed, he adjusted his glasses slightly and—

“Yes.” “That is Hilltey Village.” “Our church is likely that third flat-roofed house visible from the right.” “It seems there’s a flag or something erected there.” “So that’s where Mr. Davis resides, then.” As some of you may know, Davis is—well—the elder of our faction, the editor-in-chief of Vegetarian Monthly, and the person who became chief priest at this Grand Festival. At that, we suddenly felt invigorated and practically raced down the mountain pass in one go. The Turks had long legs and carried backpacks, moving like iron sand drawn by a magnet [...]

While gazing at the scenery around them, they walked in groups of three or five, each with a walking stick. There were quite a number of women as well. I also met a yellow-complexioned person who appeared to be Chinese. I stared intently at that face. The other party also came to a halt. However, on that day, we ultimately parted ways without exchanging a word, but there was no doubt that this person too was a Vegetarian who had come for the Grand Festival. We arrived at the church. The church was a crude plaster construction, cracked here and there. It was probably Elder Davis’s own home; though crude, it was certainly quite large. Flags and electric lights were skillfully combined with cypress branches and mistletoe to create decorations, while seven or eight people were still busily preparing for the day after tomorrow.

We stood at the church entrance and pressed the bell.

Immediately, a ruddy-faced, white-haired old man who looked quite energetic appeared from the side room holding a hammer—[several manuscript pages missing]. However, he entered holding about ten small pamphlets printed on peach-colored paper.

“Good morning.” “Oh, not at all—if anything, it’s rather charming.”

“Good morning.”

“Please let me have a look at one.” I took the pamphlet in hand. I still have it now, and this is what was written. “◎Reject narrow-minded and uncivilized Vegetarians.” Malthus’s population theory is qualitatively beyond doubt today. The essence of Malthus’s theory is this: the world’s habitable land remains fixed; food supplies increase only arithmetically; yet population grows geometrically. Therefore, humanity’s food supply will gradually become insufficient. When speaking of humanity’s food sources, they undoubtedly consist of no more than three categories: animals, plants, and minerals. Of these, minerals consist solely of water and salt. The remainder is occupied approximately half each by plants and animals. However, here exists a group of people with an extremely narrow-minded and gloomy ideology who declare, “Animals are pitiable, so they must not be eaten,” and seek to impose this upon the entire world. These are the Vegetarians. This argument, in truth, seeks to deprive humanity of half its food supply. In other words, are these proponents not planning to kill half of humanity—that is, one billion people—through starvation? Under the laws of any nation today, murder is punished most severely. Though indirect, Vegetarians too cannot escape this crime. In the near future, it is an established fact that commissioners from various countries will gather and, after sufficient deliberation, severely punish them. Furthermore, this fact demonstrates that the Vegetarians’ arguments ultimately result in self-contradiction. In other words, Vegetarians do not eat animals because they love them. Why then do they let one billion humans die—deprived of food and left to perish—for that cause?

“Are humans not also animals?”

“This thing’s amusing.” “Truly a masterful argument.” “The prose is utterly one-of-a-kind in its absurdity.” “Absolutely hilarious.”

The Turkish geologist delegation leader laughed uproariously, his plump face contorting as if it might split apart. Everyone laughed as well. In any case, everyone took off their nightclothes, went downstairs, and rinsed their mouths and washed their faces.

After that, we quickly finished breakfast and, since the ceremony was to start at nine o'clock, rested on the balcony for a while as we waited.

Suddenly, a single smoke signal rose near the church. The sky cleared to a deep blue, appearing like an expanse of lapis lazuli. In that crystalline, polished azure expanse, pure white smoke abruptly burst forth, followed by a long yellow plume that came writhing down. That was unmistakably the descending dragon fireworks of the kind done in Japan. At that moment, I suddenly realized. This smoke signal had been sent up by Mr. Chen; having realized he had launched Chinese-style yellow dragon fireworks, I excitedly explained this to everyone.

At that moment once more, the splendid trumpet call from this morning echoed from afar.

“Here they come! Here they come!” “Well then—let’s see what kind of lineup they’ve got. Let’s get a good look, shall we?”

With the Turkish geologist delegation leader at the forefront, we noisily made our way down to the entrance. Suddenly, a large red automobile arrived. On it was written "Chicago Livestock Association" in white letters. Six people, their hair standing on end as if electrified, stripped down to their shirts with faces flushed crimson, scattered mouse-gray and brown pamphlets while shouting something as they went. I took one of the mouse-gray pamphlets in hand. On it, written in red letters, was this.

“◎Reject narrow-minded and unscientific Vegetarians.”

The Vegetarians’ arguments are entirely fallacious. Let us now critique this gloomy, unscientific ideology through animal psychology.

Vegetarians say they don’t eat animals because they feel sorry for them. How can one know that animals are pitiable? It’s simply that they themselves feel pity. Pigs and the like do not possess such an advanced concept as death. They merely exist in a chain of fleeting present moments: getting hungry, chomping on turnip stems, finding it tasty, growing bored, sleeping, waking up, their noses getting stuffy, snorting loudly, their stomachs growling, eating wheat bran, finding it tasty again, getting tired, and sleeping once more. When they squeal before being slaughtered, it’s because they’re being pulled or struck. As proof: even if you tie a rope to a pig’s leg and pull it—not intending to kill it, but say, planning to host a feast some thirty chicken eggs away—the pig will still squeal. Therefore, if you truly feel sorry for pigs, you should quietly keep them from getting angry by feeding them delicious food beforehand, then suddenly plunge them into boiling water—the pigs will be delighted, their hair coming off in one swift motion. In our association, through this method, we are delighting many pigs. Vegetarians are unaware of this. Because they themselves dislike dying, they assume all other animals must feel the same way. “It’s such a childish line of thought.”

I tried to force a laugh but somehow couldn’t manage it. The Turkish geologist delegation leader had finished reading a yellow pamphlet and was making a slightly odd face. We exchanged glances. Then, without a word, we exchanged pamphlets with each other. In the yellow pamphlet was written the following.

“◎Reject narrow-minded and unscientific Vegetarians.” The Vegetarians’ arguments are entirely fallacious. Let us now briefly critique this from a biological taxonomic perspective. Vegetarians claim that animals are pitiable—but where on earth does ‘animal’ end and ‘plant’ begin? Are cows and amoebae pitiable because they’re animals, while bacteria are acceptable since they’re plants? Classifying bacteria as plants and amoebae as animals is merely an arbitrary naming convention established for research convenience. Are you saying that because animals have consciousness, eating them makes you feel guilty, but since plants lack it, there’s no problem? Indeed, plants appear to lack consciousness. Yet we cannot know for certain whether they lack it; when you think they might possess it and observe them, they indeed appear to have it. Originally, the biological world forms a single continuum; if animals possess thought, then plants must surely contain it as well. Vegetarians, gentlemen, cease consuming plants as well. You will starve to death. And go spread that throughout the world as well. Two billion people will all die. This will neatly resolve everything and fulfill your noble hopes. “And then, after that, if animals and plants were to eat and be eaten by each other, wouldn’t that be just perfect?”

I felt even more unsettled. There was another brown one as well. “Shall we exchange once you’ve had a look?”

I said to the person next to me.

“Yes,” That person hurriedly passed over the brown pamphlet. I too handed over mine. Written upon it in black was this:

“◎Reject narrow-minded and unscientific Vegetarians.” The Vegetarians’ arguments are entirely fallacious; let us now explain this from the perspective of comparative anatomy in plain terms. Humankind is zoologically structured to be suited for an omnivorous diet. This can be seen from the shape of our teeth. There are molars like those found in herbivores and canines akin to carnivores. An omnivorous diet constitutes humankind’s most natural state. Since this is our inherent design, there can be no objection. To dispute this amounts to nothing less than raising a banner of revolt against benevolent nature herself. “Cease this, Vegetarians—these gloomy and infantile notions of yours.”

“Hmph.” “These pamphlets are all quite substantial this time.” “It’s exactly the sort of argument anyone would make.” “But there’s still something off about them, don’t you think?” The Turkish geologist delegation leader turned slightly pale and said this. “It’s not just that their tone is off—every single argument is rigged entirely to suit their convenience.” “It’s just propaganda from the Livestock Association anyway,” said one of the Turks.

At that moment, a trumpet sounded again from the direction ahead. The sound of a gasoline engine could also be heard. To be honest, my heart was pounding a little at this moment. Immediately, another red automobile arrived, scattering small white papers as it went.

We hurriedly read those pamphlets. In it, written in red letters, was the following.

“To the Esteemed Vegetarians: No matter how strenuously you persist in subsisting on potatoes, cabbage, and mere flour, along the coasts fish are caught in such abundance that it becomes a problem. Even after going through the trouble of dying, there’s no one to eat them—how pitiful—the fish are all shoveled into cauldrons, scooped out once boiled, then pressed in screw presses. The portion of oil remaining in the cauldron is fish oil. It is now ten cents per can. A can of sardines is roughly worth seven hundred hiki, you see. The portion pressed in screw presses becomes fishmeal, six cents per kilogram. A kilogram of sardines amounts to about five hundred hiki. Everyone, do not go to the coast and get lightheaded. Also, do not go to the farm and get lightheaded, for using that fishmeal will yield excellent harvests of cabbage and wheat alike. Moreover, to grow even a single cabbage, you must remove no fewer than a hundred hiki of green caterpillars, you see. Furthermore, when you partake of anything boiled in this town or use hot water, dear sirs, we ask that you take care not to become dizzy. As you are well aware, the gas in this town is produced not from coal but through the dry distillation of fish oil. “We shall meet again another time and explain everything in detail to you, dear sirs.”

When we had finished reading this pamphlet, I must confess, we fell silent for a time. Theoretically, it indeed appeared that these opponents' arguments were prevailing. That said, neither I nor the six believers who had come from Turkey had any intention of abandoning vegetarianism or fully agreeing with their arguments; it was simply that we found it unpleasant how this Grand Festival’s commencement had been marred by such nitpicking. For it to be laughed off as a diversion was far too malicious.

However, once again, a signal fire rose from the direction of the church. In the deep blue sky, white smoke burst open, and then a rhythmic thudding sound could be heard. Emerging from the smoke was, this time unmistakably, a fully Chinese-style five-colored lotus flower. So it really was Mr. Chen after all—he had executed the blue radiance from blue light, yellow radiance from yellow light, red radiance from red light, and white radiance from white light as described in the sutras—I thought in deep admiration as I gazed up at it. Truly, the petals of that lotus were faintly glowing as they fluttered down through the fresh morning sky of Hilltei Village’s Vegetarian Grand Festival on Newfoundland Island.

Then, from the direction of the church, a lively band began to play. Because it was downwind, the music carried with such clarity that one might have reached out and grasped it. That was indeed truly proper. At first, we thought this must have been arranged at great expense by bringing them from the mainland, but later learned that the famous Snyder was actually one of our own. Snyder had apparently brought his entire band—though half were vegetarians, mind you—arriving here just the day before yesterday as well. In any case, though there remained nearly an hour before the ceremony’s start, with all this commotion afoot, we simply couldn’t stay put. We hurried back upstairs to don our formal attire. The Turks all wore crimson turbans and sashes, with the geologist delegation leader in particular having adorned his jet-black coat with medals and decorations from various quarters, rendering the whole display positively dazzling. I wore a white linen frock coat I’d had made at Mitsukoshi—though this was purely my preference, not a matter of protocol. Yet while clothing fundamentally serves to ward off cold in the Eastern manner, as Carlyle observed, since adornment takes precedence—and thus wearing something befitting one’s station is paramount—I felt not the slightest compunction. In truth, clothing exists not for oneself but for others. Since I cannot see my own attire in full, it suffices if those who behold it feel refreshed.

Now, we left the inn.

It turned out that we were not the only ones who could hardly wait for the ceremony to begin. On the way to the church, we encountered people in various formal attire—some emerging from that alley, others from this square—all in groups of three or four. There were swallowtail coats and farmers in thick coarse woolen cloth; there were men adorned with sashes and lanky young military doctors. Since all these were our fellow beings, we—regardless of country, class, occupation, or name—now greeted one another as comrades of a single great Vegetarian fellowship: “Good morning,” we would say, and “Congratulations,” we would reply. And before we knew it, we had formed a line. We entered the church gate in a line. The small gate, which I hadn’t paid much attention to the day before yesterday, had been completely transformed into something splendid, adorned with crimson algae and dark green Tsuga branches. Upon entering the gate, there was immediately a reception desk, and we were all asked to present our membership cards. This may strike everyone as an exceedingly narrow-minded approach, but given this morning’s opposition propaganda, with no way of knowing what might have slipped in or what mischief could occur, there was truly no alternative.

The venue appeared to have been set up with a large circus tent erected in the church’s spacious grounds, incorporating even the existing tennis courts within it. A hall large enough to accommodate that number of people likely did not exist anywhere across the entire island of Newfoundland.

Already, about two hundred eager believers had taken their seats and were waiting. Laughter could be heard like waves. It must have been because there was much talk about this morning’s pamphlets, among other things.

The gray canvas covering the venue was crisscrossed with black fir branches, interspersed here and there with yellow and orange rhododendron flowers. Given such fine weather, with the canvas glowing translucently, the harmony was truly splendid—it seemed as though this very place would soon become the grand ceramic ceiling of the World Vegetarian Congress Hall yet to be completed. At the far end, of course, a high altar decorated with flowers had been set up. At that moment, I heard the sound of the signal fire once again. Suddenly noticing, I hurried out toward the sound to the back of the church to investigate. It was Mr. Chen after all. Mr. Chen had brought along two small Chinese children as his signal fire assistants. And all three of them were dressed entirely in Chinese clothing today. I had never felt the magnificence of Chinese clothing as keenly as I did that morning. Mr. Chen was dressed entirely in black, with only his cuffs and shoes in a dazzling white; his hair was as it had been the day before, but he wore a single Chinese medal.

Then, the assistant children looked exactly like figures from a classical Chinese painting. Their heads closely shaven save for a central tuft, they stood reverently with their hands clasped behind Mr. Chen. When Mr. Chen saw that I had come, he appeared genuinely delighted and abruptly extended his hand,

“Congratulations! Good morning! Lovely weather we’re having! May heaven’s blessings shine upon you!” he rattled off in rapid succession.

“Good morning.” We shook hands. The two child assistants also bowed respectfully to me, their hands clasped throughout. I, too, was truly delighted. Under the blue skies of Newfoundland Island, I received this solemn Eastern-style courtesy.

Mr. Chen said: “Now then—one more round. The rest will come after the ceremony concludes. This one, in my homeland’s naming convention, is called Ryūun Hichō. The willow refers to Salix babylonica. The ‘flying bird’ denotes a swallow. In Japan as well, do you reference willows and swallows?” “We do. Though my memory isn’t clear, I’m certain we too had such signal fires on our side. Wait—or perhaps they were fireworks? Or maybe kemari with willows?”

“The famous spot for fireworks in Japan is Ryōgokubashi in Tokyo, isn’t it?”

“Yes, there are other places as well—like Iwakuni and Ishinomaki, and various others.”

“I see. Now, let us prepare.” Mr. Chen turned to the two children. One child reverently took out a smoke signal pellet from the basket. Mr. Chen received it and carefully examined it, “Good. The fuse,” he said. Another child was already waiting with the fuse in hand. Mr. Chen received it. The first child struck a match with a swish. Mr. Chen applied the fuse to it and hurriedly threw it into the signal tube. After a moment passed, there came a “boom” accompanied by smoke as the pellet ascended into the blue sky at a speed rivaling that of a train. The two children also stood reverently clasping their hands, gazing up at it. Immediately white smoke billowed in the sky, popping sounds rained down, then blue willow-shaped smoke cascaded while swallow-shaped black forms spiraled through it in swirling patterns.

“Now, let us proceed to the ceremony hall.” “You all stay here and keep watch.” Mr. Chen said in English, and then we returned to the ceremony canopy, leaving behind us the two children’s respectful salutes.

There were only six minutes left until the ceremony was to begin. At the entrance of the canopy, we received the program. On its front cover was

Vegetarian Grand Festival Program Opening Address Debates and Rebuttals Choral Hymn Prayer

Closing Address Banquet Member Introduction

Entertainment — End of Program

Printed with these items, it was just five minutes to nine when we received it.

The venue was packed to capacity. Moreover, they had evidently calculated attendance numbers precisely, as there were scarcely any vacant chairs left—naturally, not a single person remained standing without a seat. The total attendance must have reached about five hundred. Women likely constituted one-third of that number. Assorted garments and hues mingled with orange and blue floral displays arranged throughout the space; the autumn air hung crystalline like water, while the believers—now wholly transformed from their earlier demeanor—awaited the ceremony's commencement in reverent silence.

Beneath the arched altar, the orchestra band led by Conductor Snyder formed a semicircle, and to its left were the seats for the choir. It was said that among the choir members was Canada’s Grocko, but I couldn’t tell which one he was. However, beneath the altar to the right of the orchestra band, two ceramic placards labeled "Heretics' Section" and "Dissidents' Section" had been placed, each occupied by about twenty people dressed in formal attire. Among them were quite a number of people resembling those I had seen in this morning’s automobile.

I too took a seat at the very back there alongside Mr. Chen. Mr. Chen kept comparing the Heretics' Section and Dissidents' Section across the way with the program, seeming quite preoccupied. Finally, he whispered softly to me. “So the ‘Debates and Rebuttals’ in this program are to be conducted by those people over there, I take it?” “I’m sure that’s the case.” “What do you think? The folks in the Dissidents’ Section seem rather lacking in presence compared to our comrades, don’t they?”

I also laughed. “It does indeed appear that way.”

Mr. Chen spoke again. "But when you compare the Heretics’ Section lot with the Dissidents’ Section bunch, they’re quite different, don’t you think? When it comes to the Heretics’ Section lot, they really are quite hideous, don’t you think?" "Absolutely." I finally burst out laughing. Indeed, when it came to the Heretics’ Section lot, every last one of them was hideous.

Suddenly, the crystal-clear sound of an electric bell resounded throughout the ceremony hall. A storm of applause erupted. Elder Davis, white-bearded and ruddy-faced, took his place at the altar wearing a plain black gown. He seemed about to say something, but he was so overjoyed that he could no longer speak and simply wept helplessly. The believers were utterly frenzied, cheering and applauding. Elder Davis waved his hands grandly and tried to speak again, but once more his voice caught in his throat, turning into a strange sound, and he finally broke down in tears once again.

Everyone applauded frantically once more. Elder Davis seemed to have finally regained his composure; although he waved his hands grandly three times and tried to call out something, this time too he ended up collapsing into tears just as before. The deputy chief priest—a man named William Tapping, said to be a missionary from Java and a tall, distinguished-looking old man—unable to bear watching any longer, stepped forward and stood beside the chief priest. The ceremony hall fell into a hushed silence.

“Everyone, through silence alone, the Chief Priest has already expressed countless words. This is indeed the sacred declaration of the festival’s commencement. However, there still remain things the Chief Priest has yet to express. This is but the dregs of what the Chief Priest seeks to convey. This too, which the Deputy Chief Priest seeks to impart to you all, should not be met with reproach. Everyone, we have endured countless persecutions both within and without, and upheld the principles of the Vegetarian Sympathy Faction to this day. Yet this remains socially powerless, residing within each and every individual. Yet today we have already witnessed the unyielding unity of the Vegetarian Sympathy Faction and precipitated this Grand Vegetarian Festival—a radiant octahedral crystal—beneath the clear September skies of Newfoundland Island. That we possess some measure of pleasant stimulation at this grand festival is truly where divine providence lies. What, then, is this ‘pleasant stimulation’? It is none other than the debates from the gentlemen of other faiths and dissident factions as outlined in the program. These gentlemen, like our fellow believers, are friends of truth who have gathered from all corners of the world for the sake of their respective principles and convictions. The critiques from these gentlemen will likely be of the most severe and scathing nature. The sharper their critiques become, the more openly we desire to respond. This is the final dregs of the Grand Festival’s opening address. Deputy Chief Priest William Tapping states this on behalf of Chief Priest Henry Davis.”

The applause was so thunderous it seemed to make the canopy billow; all the while, Davis stood staggering unsteadily, trembling with emotion and shaking his head repeatedly. Amidst that applause, Elder Davis, led by the Deputy Chief Priest, descended from the platform, and the transparent electric bell rang out throughout the ceremony hall. The Deputy Chief Priest once again ascended to the altar, sat on a chair at the corner of the platform, then stood up briefly and lightly gestured toward the Heretics' Section. From the Heretics' Section emerged a tall, stout man in a frock coat. He stood before the lectern, gave a slight bow, and then stated in a crisp tone as follows.

“I have two points of doubt regarding the claims put forth by vegetarian gentlemen. First, that the digestibility rate of plant-based foods is significantly lower compared to animal-based foods. Of course, since animal-based foods contain almost no carbohydrates, these must naturally be obtained from plants. However, if we consider proteins and fats, plant-based ones are undeniably harder to digest. Simply looking at analysis charts and claiming that beef and peanuts have the same nutritional value does not mean one can simply replace beef entirely with beans. There may even be cases where some people are thought to digest almost no plant protein at all. Vegetarian gentlemen, while you are fully aware of these facts, what could possibly justify extending this approach to the many infirm, elderly, and even infants?”

“The second point is that plant-based foods are by no means more delicious than animal-based foods.” “This can by no means be denied.” “Originally, a meal exists not merely for taking in nutrition but also as a form of pleasure.” “Rather than mere pleasure, it constitutes an indispensable mental stimulant.” “When exhausted from labor and enveloped in hardships—when spirits sink low—just as singing a brief song, conversing while listening to music, attending plays or brief outings prove effective, meals too serve as another restorative for mind and body.” “I believe vegetarian diets would significantly diminish this pleasure.” “Particularly enjoyable meals in fact improve digestion.” “I would like to hear what the vegetarian gentlemen have to say about this.”

Because his argument was so moderate in tone, we genuinely applauded in earnest. Then, from our seats, about three people stood up with their hands raised toward the Deputy Chief Priest, and the Deputy Chief Priest invited the foremost old man. The man, with his white beard and black attire befitting a pastor, ascended the podium and responded in a solemn tone.

“I wish to respond to the esteemed questions raised earlier.”

“It is clear that plant-based fats and proteins are not very well digested.” “Even so, this does not mean they are extremely deficient—it simply indicates they are somewhat inferior compared to animal-based foods.” “There may well be no one who cannot digest plant-based proteins or fats at all; should such a person exist, they would likewise be unable to digest animal-based proteins or fats.” “Now, regarding why plant-based foods are less digestible—for proteins, this appears ultimately due to their molecular structure, while the low digestibility of fats relates to how they are largely encased within cellulose cell walls.” “As one gradually becomes accustomed to vegetarianism with both [types], digestion steadily improves.” “We have various experimental results available for your later perusal.” “Furthermore, among the infirm, elderly, infants, and others, there may indeed be those who cannot subsist on vegetarian diets—our faction does not seek to impose this upon such individuals.” “It merely signifies our desire to alter this unnatural state where animals prey upon one another.” “However, even for elderly or infirm meat-averse individuals, we are making sufficient efforts to develop easily digestible foods suited to them.” “For instance, we break down proteins into relatively simple forms to create digestible substances.”

“Secondly, the notion that vegetarianism robs meals of much of their pleasure—which is indeed a form of enjoyment—is, as one might expect, a perspective held by meat-eaters. It is true that when eating a mixed diet, vegetables may not taste as good as meat. However, if one considers the animal’s suffering while consuming meat, it ultimately becomes impossible to find it delicious. Consequently, even if forced to eat it, digestion suffers. Of course, after maintaining a vegetarian diet for over a year, meat acquires quite an unpleasant odor and becomes undesirable. Fundamentally, the taste of food—like all sensations—depends less on the object itself than on the refinement or coarseness of one’s sensory faculties; or rather, on their moral quality. A virtuous faculty perceives goodness, while a depraved faculty corrupts even what is good. Even when drinking the same water, those with virtue and those without experience it quite differently. For monastic saints subsisting on bread, salt, and water, every component in the bread—dextrin, protein enzymes, monosaccharides, fats—manifests as subtle flavors. If the bread is rye, they discern and rejoice in its virtues. This occurs because their senses have attained tranquility. Whether drinking lime-rich water, carbonated water, cold water, or a river’s gentle flow, they quietly savor it. This arises from senses being clear and calm. Yet when senses grow coarse, they deteriorate endlessly into vulgarity. Most lose the true taste of bread altogether, resorting to copious seasonings. Thus pleasure does not reside solely in meat-eating. Rather, I declare that vegetarianism contains pure, transparent joy and tranquility without limit.” The old man bowed and descended from the podium as applause billowed through the tent. The Deputy Chief Priest stood and looked toward the Heretics’ Section. A gaunt man with sallow complexion and Prussian-cut hair rose from the heretics’ seats. The Deputy Chief Priest gave a slight nod. That person returned the courtesy and ascended the podium.

That person, with a deeply ironic look in his eyes, scrutinized the entire hall before speaking.

“This morning we gave you those five or six pamphlets—I expect most of you have read them through by now.” “I am indeed, as you’ve heard, a director of the Chicago Livestock Association and an engineer at a slaughterhouse.” “But truth be told, our Association has no reason to feel threatened by this Vegetarian Grand Festival.” “Why? Because those ‘Trappist-style ascetics’ the previous speaker mentioned don’t even make up one ten-thousandth of humanity today.” “For ordinary people, meat remains both nutritious and delicious.” “Even if one admires you vegetarian gentlemen’s diligent practice and promotion of plant-based diets, few will follow your example.” “Meaning meat demand won’t decrease, nor will our Association crumble or companies go bankrupt.” “Thus we’ve no need for counterpropaganda—nor for me to endure hours crammed in this ‘honorable’ Heretics’ Section of your circus tent.” “The truth is, I’ve been summering here since June.” “When this festival coincided with my stay, I thought—given my profession—it might be amusing to stir some trouble. When I proposed it to headquarters, the president and others found it hilarious. They approved funds and even sent five engineers.” “So we hastily drafted pamphlets—each of us writing one—hired automobiles to distribute them, though honestly...” He smirked. “We couldn’t care less if you dine on grass clippings.” “But having started this farce, we’ll now explain each pamphlet point by point and endure your tedious rebuttals.” “Note that I’ve stenographers present—your responses will be published in our journal *Livestock Friend*.” “Now, as stated in our pamphlets: You claim abstaining from meat stems from pity for animals. But animals are mere machines.” “Machines performing digestion, absorption, excretion, circulation, reproduction.” “They don’t fret over death, illness tomorrow, or cutting ties with acquaintances.” “Animal nerves exist solely for instinct and impulse.” “Their nerves barely function.” “Observe forced fattening: Insert rubber tubes down chickens’ throats—” “—shove five, ten times their normal feed. They balloon grotesquely—amusingly so.”

“To observe a dog’s gastric secretions or such matters—you cut open its chest, expose the rear stomach wall, detach the pylorus from the intestines and connect it with a rubber tube before feeding it. Now—do you suppose it will eat or not?” “Oh dear—is something amiss?” Something was indeed amiss. The brutality of his account proved too much—four or five women collapsed outright while others bit back sobs with gritted teeth, hands clamped over ears as they curled inward. The assembly hall exploded into bedlam. Above it all stood the Chicago livestock technician stranded on his dais in helpless dismay. Unconscious attendees were borne out past our delegation by helping hands as a dozen white-coated physicians rose en masse to depart.

After some time had passed, the hall fell silent. The women were all extremely agitated, but since their opponents were heretical critics, none voiced any objections to avoid appearing cowardly. The Chicago technician carefully wiped his mouth with a handkerchief and spoke again.

“Indeed, the Vegetarian gentlemen’s sympathy for animals is truly profound.” “I shall take a bit more care with my wording as I proceed.” “Yes, the dog eats it.” “It devours it voraciously.” “Do you understand?” “Furthermore, we castrate livestock.” “In other words, we preserve the energy that would otherwise be expended on reproductive urges or similar matters.” “Now, livestock fatten splendidly—animals are entirely machines. To make their legs swift, we make them run; to fatten them, we feed them; to collect eggs, we hang them; to extract milk, we place their offspring nearby yet prevent them from suckling. We can do whatever we please.” “There is absolutely nothing to worry about.” “I would still like to elaborate further, but since it would be problematic if you were to faint again, I shall conclude here.”

That person descended from the platform. Along with the applause, six or seven people rose from our side, but the Deputy Chief Priest beckoned a young person in mourning clothes who was relatively near the front.

That person delivered a speech with a composed demeanor, smiling slightly.

“The question you have just posed is indeed most reasonable.” “Although you have mentioned several experiments, I must regrettably note that none qualify as proper experiments.” “You stated that animals are governed solely by impulse and instinct—I shall let that stand for now.” “Those instincts and impulses are wholly consumed by the desire to live.” “That killing them is wrong—this alone suffices as an answer.” “However, I believe animal psychology’s numerous experiments will furnish further details.” “Moreover, animals are not in truth governed solely by instinct and impulse.” “As seen in this morning’s pamphlet, it was declared that all life forms one great continuum.” “Human sentiments are gradually extending from those near to humans toward those more distant.” “What causes humans suffering causes all sentient beings suffering; what brings humans sorrow—despite differences in strength—brings all animals sorrow.” “Matters do not proceed as cheerfully as depicted by those pamphlet pigs.” “All know the famed case of a kept dog that refused to leave its boy master’s grave after his illness took him, taking no food until it starved; of deer or monkey parents slain deliberately while mourning their slaughtered young.” “Horses remember their owners for years, shedding tears when chancing to meet them.” “Whereas the previous speaker claims vegetarians seek to impose human emotions upon animals to regulate them, I must advise it is rather opponents who—deceived by slight differences in form between animals and humans—have abandoned compassionate feelings arising from their true hearts.” “All wish to interpret matters self-servingly—but such interpretations cannot hold indefinitely.” “Fundamentally, our emotions are not so wildly erroneous—feelings arising from true hearts prove objectively accurate when impartially viewed.” “Animals are truly pitiable creatures.” “Humans too are truly pitiable.” “I entreat all debaters to contemplate the world more profoundly and without superficiality.”

Vigorous applause broke out. From within the applause, a short-statured, long-haired man abruptly stood up from the heretics’ section and ascended the platform. “I remain an engineer at the Chicago Livestock Association.” “Gentlemen, you’ve read this morning’s discussion grounded in Malthusian population theory, haven’t you?” “How about that—no discrepancies there, eh?” “Half of humanity’s sustenance comes from animals, half from plants.” “Stop eating animals, and your food supply halves.” “With shortages already sparking wars and chaos, halving it further—no matter your pretty logic—is sheer madness.” “When half a billion starve and riots erupt before they die—what’ll you Vegetarians do?” “Charge into your own wars with guns and swords to crush enemy nations?” “Or cry ‘Oh God, this wasn’t meant to be!’ and leap en masse into Niagara Falls?” “That won’t undo anything.” “No—any politician worth his salt would see this coming. Regrettably, they’ll have you all jailed for life.” “Execution’s unlikely, but life imprisonment’s no picnic either.” “Well?” “Repent and quit now—while you still can.”

Both applause and laughter arose. From our side, a young man in a suit stood up and stepped forward. "I know that person." "I spoke with him two or three times in New York." "He's a college student."

The young man began his speech with a somewhat impassioned demeanor.

“I shall endeavor to answer your question as simply as possible.” Humanity’s food supply consists roughly half of animals and half of plants. If we cease consuming animals from that portion, our food supply would be halved. “While your reasoning appears reasonable at first glance, it contains significant oversights.” “The very premise of this half-animal-half-plant division is flawed.” “What exactly constitutes this ‘half-and-half’ measure?” “You likely intend to compare them by weight, but such a method would gravely misrepresent the facts.” “A more accurate comparison would use digestible caloric content within foodstuffs.” “Adopting this approach actually favors your position, as animal-based substances generally have higher digestibility rates.” “Yet even with this advantage, the ratio could never remain half-and-half.” “Since such peculiar calculations have never been required before, I shall outline the methodology—though I doubt anyone has yet performed it.” “You may conduct these computations at leisure in your Chicago Livestock Association offices.” “First, ascertain global production yields of all foodstuffs—wheat, barley, rice, oats, turnips, cabbage—then deduct livestock consumption from each.” “I advise you not to be unduly startled by the results.” “Next, calculate digestible quantities of protein, fat, and carbohydrates from the remaining portions, compute their caloric values, and sum them.” “This should yield approximately 4,300 trillion kilocalories.” “Repeat this process for cattle, sheep, pigs, horses, poultry*, and whales* using identical parameters.” “The total will likely approximate 2,300 trillion kilocalories.” “Combine both figures, divide by two billion and then by three hundred sixty-five days—then submit it for verification at any nutrition research institute.” “They may perhaps condescend to confirm any computational errors.”

“Now then,” he continued, his tone sharpening, “none of these arguments thus far hold any relevance to me whatsoever—the crucial points in response to your initial question come next.” “This claim that abstaining from animal consumption would halve our food supply—this absurd notion of yours—” “It’s no laughing matter!” “What exactly do those animals eat to survive?” “They aren’t consuming air, rocks, or water.” “Cows, horses, and sheep devour oats and pasture grass.” “They gorge on pumpkins and turnips cultivated specifically for them.” “Look here.” “Humans grow feed for livestock instead of grains and vegetables for themselves.” “Raising a single cow demands eight acres of grazing land.” “Suppose we planted high-yield wheat on that same plot instead?” “We could harvest enough annual sustenance for ten people.” “Now consider cattle.” “Could ten people survive a year on 160 kilograms of beef—the total weight a cow gains annually?” “That’s fifty grams per person daily.” “Three thumb-sized morsels!” “Wouldn’t you starve?”

“You don’t seem to grasp this, so let me put it plainly: If we were to consult with nature and request something in place of beef and pork—something equally beneficial without loss—it would send us far more food than we currently have, enough to sustain many more people than presently exist.” “However, livestock raised using marine products and waste materials are excluded from this calculation.” “Yet even when factoring those in, the conclusion remains sound.” “Livestock aren’t all for consumption—there are various types: those like sheep from which we obtain wool, and those like horses and cattle from whom we receive labor.”

“Next comes this amusing idea that halving our food supply would halve humanity—except that food supply never actually gets halved. Not only doesn’t decrease—it might even increase slightly! So rest assured—as long as war doesn’t break out, you needn’t worry about life sentences. On the contrary, vegetarianism brings peace to all hearts, enabling proper mutual love. Doesn’t the fact that meat prohibition features in essential rituals across religions make this clear? Far from causing wars, vegetarianism will grant even you eternal peace—sparing you the need to hire automobiles for bizarre propaganda campaigns during your summer retreats or storm into our Grand Festival spouting nonsense that makes ladies faint. And we’re not serving life sentences either—we’ll be showered with medals and commendations from humanity’s ranks, the Mammal Association, Avian Federation, Fish Affairs Bureau... How about it? Now that you understand, you ought to become Vegetarians.”

Then, the previous debater stood up. He wore an expression of deep contrition, yet somehow also seemed to be barely suppressing an urge to burst out laughing. He dejectedly climbed up to the podium.

“I repent. “From today, I too shall become a Vegetarian,” he said and took the young man’s hand. Everyone applauded tremendously. The two descended together to our side, and the engineer also sat down in the vacated seat, his breath rasping through his shoulders. However, of course because of this, the indignation of the heretics' section was intense.

A man who also appeared to be an engineer ascended the podium with a rather rough demeanor.

“Gentlemen, answer my question.” “There exists no definitive boundary between animals and plants. As our pamphlet states, this division is merely humanity’s arbitrary classification. If animals deserve compassion, plants must inevitably become equally pitiable.” “Protozoa among animals and bacteria among plants share intimate kinship. Animals harbor plant-like forms such as Hydra and corals, while plants boast insect-eaters and sleepers—those that wither if denied nightly rest! Some carnivorous flora ensnare birds; others even kill humans.” “Consider bacteria—until recently taxonomists classed them as animals. Their current plant classification? Pure convenience. Surely you benevolent Vegetarians wouldn’t consume such ambiguous creatures?” “Yet behold! You drizzle vinegar on greens, slaughtering billions of bacteria in your stomachs with each bite. A grape cluster teems with microbes; one city breath murders ten thousand. You prattle ‘I’m Vegetarian—no beef!’ yet devour countless lives daily. Whether hypocrisy or ignorance, this farce defies reason.” “If animals truly merit mercy, renounce plant consumption too! To cease all killing, subsist on water and salt—but only pristine spring water, freshly drawn! Breathe solely mountain air! Abandon this tainted city!” “March into remote peaks! Conduct your Grand Festival there—gulping pure water, nibbling rock salt! This air? Forbidden! You mustn’t breathe it!”

Applause broke out and laughter arose, but many people remained silent and thoughtful. The man, now thoroughly pleased with himself, glanced briefly toward his friend who had earlier repented and become a Vegetarian, then returned to his seat.

What shocked me then was that Mr. Chen, who until this moment had been sitting still with his arms folded, suddenly stood up and left. Standing at the altar in Chinese attire, he saw my face for the first time and gave a slight nod. Then, calmly and in fluent English, he began his rebuttal speech.

“Your current argument is quite fascinating—so much so that I too immediately wished to cease breathing air—but before doing so, I would like to offer a brief response.” “I ask your permission to continue breathing during this interim.” “Now then—according to your proposition, Vegetarians must all subsist on sterile water and rocks while dwelling at altitudes exceeding two thousand shaku. Indeed, among us there exist those earnestly researching sugar synthesis from carbon monoxide and water.” “However, here I found the notion of biological continuity particularly compelling, and thus shall explore its various applications.” “That is: from humankind through mammals, birds, reptiles, fish; through arthropods and mollusks down to protozoa; abruptly shifting to plant bacteria; then onward to multicellular ferns and flowering plants—since they form such a continuum, if animals merit compassion, then all lifeforms must be pitied: even flowering plants must neither be consumed nor severed. Yet continuities persist beyond this.” “Consider human life’s continuum—infancy, childhood, adolescence, youth, adulthood, old age—though these are but arbitrary classifications for convenience’s sake, having no true boundaries. By this logic, should a forty-year-old stand for parliament, newborns too must don frock coats to declare manifestos or tailcoats for social engagements! Similarly, if we teach ABCs to first-graders, why do universities not abandon relativity theory’s complexities and theoretical chemistry’s literary pretensions to focus solely on alphabet instruction?” “Or take psychology: since abnormal and normal minds exist on a continuum, humanity must either empty all asylums or incarcerate every soul within them—such becomes the conclusion.” “That this preposterous reasoning appears uniquely applicable to vegetarianism proves its proponents have neither seriously contemplated nor sincerely implemented these principles.” “Such sophistry occurs frequently enough.”

“Even if they form a continuum, their extremes differ markedly.” “Observe the seven colors of the solar spectrum.” “Here we find red at one end and violet at the other, with yellow occupying the middle.” “Their difference being inherent, there’s simply no circumventing it.” “Of course we extend compassion to plants as well.” “The sages of India strictly forbade needless cutting of grass or trampling of flowers.” “Yet this stands worlds apart from slaughtering cattle.” “This distinction lies within common understanding.” “Though I cannot confirm whether consciousness diminishes as bodily forms diverge from ours, we experience no profound anguish when consuming vegetation.” “Such is nature’s prudent design.” “While much ado was made about bacteria, extinguishing their existence differs fundamentally from equine slaughter.” “Bacteria perpetually divide and perish in ceaseless metamorphosis.” “To speak of ‘killing’ them bears scant resemblance to ending an equine life.” “As for bacterial sentience—though poorly understood—we possess no innate compulsion to dwell upon their destruction or plight.” “This disposition proves fitting.” “Moreover, inevitable.” “How future cultural evolution might alter this paradigm remains beyond our foresight.” “The Indian sages abstained from unfiltered water.” “Common cloth filtration may block protozoa yet admits bacteria.” “Concerning these matters, regardless of theoretical posturing, we must ultimately declare our inability to share such perspectives.”

“In time, this will undoubtedly be proven theoretically as well.” “Mencius of my country said that virtuous people do not look upon places where livestock are slaughtered or cooked.” “That is an extremely moderate view.” “Because nature does not set such traps.” “We declare that we desire to practice vegetarianism under the state of our endowed senses and the conditions surrounding us.” “In this regard, I will not flee to the high mountains.”

Mr. Chen returned to my side amid a tempest of applause. While I remained standing to show respect to Mr. Chen, the next debater had already ascended the podium.

“Gentlemen, silence I bid you.” “It remains premature for such celebration.” “For your vegetarian arguments shall be utterly overturned through comparative anatomy’s lens.” “Observe—how many teeth do you possess?” “Thirty-two—precisely so.” “Among these: four incisors, four canines, with molars and wisdom teeth comprising the remainder.” “Now then—incisors serve to bite food, molars grind vegetation, while canines exist to rend flesh.” “Does this not make matters clear?” “Herbivores bear molars; carnivores brandish canines.” “Thus humanity’s suitability for omnivory stands self-evident.” “Therefore our mixed diet constitutes nature’s own design.” “Hence we must reject all abstinence from meat.”

Everyone had been holding back quite a bit, but his gestures were so comical, and on top of that, he spoke exactly like he was teaching second graders, so finally they all burst out laughing. From our seats, one person immediately left.

“I find your current argument from comparative anatomy rather unconvincing.” “First—regarding the claim that human teeth are perfectly suited for an omnivorous diet—while various debates may arise—let us provisionally accept this as generally true. But then to argue that vegetarianism must be rejected because omnivory is humanity’s ‘most natural state’—” “People often claim ‘natural equals right,’ but this principle cuts both ways.” “Consider our fields.” “We till them to cultivate specific crops—yet nature’s way would have weeds overrun everything.” “That is nature’s truest course.” “Should our esteemed opponent ever manage a farm, I would dearly request a tour.” “Moreover, humans naturally conceive of theft.” “An entirely innate tendency.” “By your logic—if natural equals permissible—should we not condone such behavior?” “And though many opposition members arrived by rail—if we followed ‘nature’s way’ for railways by minimizing human controls—collisions and derailments would become preferable.” “Thus we must conclude: ‘Abolish pointsmen! Scrap signaling tablets! Let chaos reign!’ Does any here dissent?” Having delivered this retort, the speaker strode back to their seat. Immediately another figure rose from the Heretics’ Section.

“To be frank, I had intended to discuss this matter in full detail as stated in my pamphlet, but these muddled, pointless debates have given me a headache—so I’ll keep it brief: fish will die whether you eat them or not! If it’s a sardine, it’ll either be eaten by humans or swallowed by a whale.” “A thrush will either be eaten by people or snatched by a hawk.” “Wouldn’t they say sardines and thrushes would rather be devoured by benevolent vegetarian sirs with tears dripping down their cheeks than by pitch-black whales or hawks too inept even to catch a smelt?” “And don’t think vegetarianism lets you off scot-free.” “Agriculture has its science of pests—dousing them with chemicals, burning them, crushing them dead.” “Every farmer does it.” “Eat one whale, and ten thousand people get fed while a million sardines are spared; eat one cabbage, and you’ve slaughtered a hundred caterpillars.” “It’s precisely the opposite of your precious principles being put into practice.” “How’s that strike you?”

Immediately, another person stood up.

“I will answer in just one minute.” “First, no matter how many fish die, that does not obligate us to eat them.” “Moreover, even if we ate fish, we cannot know whether they would welcome it.” “That they might be killed by something else does not justify us killing them.” “Some argue seas would overflow with fish if humans didn’t catch them—but we cannot act on such shortsighted logic.” “Ultimately, there’s no end to debating these tangents—we simply avoid what we deem unquestionably wrong.” “We’re well aware vegetables too demand sacrifices.” “Hence why avoiding waste matters profoundly.” “Yet in grain cultivation, we don’t slaughter insects so ruthlessly.” “Focusing solely on extreme cases spawns endless absurdities.” “In the end, we must act according to what we believe right.”

Applause broke out. That person descended from the podium.

From the heretics’ section emerged a tall, stout man with bristling reddish hair—if described in an Eastern manner, he looked precisely like one whose “rage made his hair pierce the heavens”—and strode up to the altar. We generously applauded.

A priest came out, stood beside that person, and introduced him.

“This distinguished individual is Dr. Helseas Matton, Doctor of Theology and a professor at Canada University.” “On this occasion, he has graced us with his presence at the Grand Festival as an advisor to the Chicago Livestock Association and will now kindly point out the deficiencies in our arguments.” “I will now offer a brief introduction,” he said. We generously applauded. Dr. Matton quietly drank water from his flask, shook his shoulders vigorously, clutched his stomach, and then began to speak with extreme deliberation.

“Vegetarian Sympathy Faction gentlemen.” “It is truly an honor for me to have been granted the privilege of attending this resplendent Grand Festival today.” “Therefore, for approximately five minutes henceforth, I wish to critique your doctrines from the theological standpoint I uphold.” “However, the theology I uphold is not so narrow.” “The theology I uphold can be summed up in just two words.” “The one true God exists, and thus it is that His providence cannot be measured.” “You who do not assent to this—do you still intend to confront the bright, joyous, and ceaselessly dynamic hearts of the 1920s with the relics of medieval scholastic philosophy?” “The greatest requirement of religion today is brevity.” “Our philosophy has already gained sixteen million adherents scattered across various parts of the world through these two words.” “Nay, is there any believer of God who does not uphold these two words? Setting aside trivial disputes over details, is there anyone who believes in God yet denies these two words?” Having finished roaring, Dr. Mattun struck the podium and surveyed the hall. The entire hall fell as silent as a forest. Dr. Mattun continued.

“Praise be to God! God is truly unchanging; God created all things. O beautiful nature! The wind ceaselessly plays the organ, and the clouds are like tomatoes and potatoes. The flowers and plants by the roadside are some red, others white. Diamond is hard; talc is soft. Pastures are green; the sea is blue. In that pasture, fair cows stand and flocks of sheep gallop. In that sea, blue-clad sardines swim and great whales float. O wondrously created heavens and earth! O nature! How about it, gentlemen? Do you have any objections?”

The hall fell silent; there was no reply. Dr.Mattun, with evident triumph, rose onto his tiptoes and drew a round circle in the air with his hand.

“All events within it are divine providence. “Everything—absolutely everything—is according to His divine will. “This represents the pinnacle of reverence. “To praise the Lord’s blessings—truly His will surpasses all measurement! “In this beautiful world of ours, we eat bread; don wool, linen, and cotton; consume celery and turnips; and partake of pork and salmon. “All of this manifests divine providence. “All flows from His grace. “All is good. “What say you, gentlemen? “Have you any objections?”

Dr. Mattun now looked slightly worried, his complexion paling as he quietly surveyed the hall. Then, with the momentum of a startled hare, he plunged into his conclusion. "I am not an advisor to the Chicago Livestock Association or anything of the sort." "I have come here solely to convey God’s justice." "Gentlemen, you believe in God." "Why do you not obey Him?" "Why do you reject His blessings?" "Repent quickly of this and become obedient servants of God!"

Dr. Mattun concluded with one final mighty roar, then returned to his seat like lightning and from there surveyed the hall with a sidelong glance. Applause arose, but at the same time, laughter also erupted. The reason was that we had been restraining ourselves as much as possible so as not to disrupt the sanctity of the hall, but Dr. Mattun’s arguments were so amusing that in the end, we simply could no longer hold back. A small believer in the front row stood up and said something to the Deputy Chief Priest. The Deputy Chief Priest nodded deeply.

That person appeared to be the elementary school teacher of this village. He calmly stood at the altar and then politely bowed to Dr. Mattun. Dr. Mattun had indeed turned pale and was trembling violently. The believer next greeted the entire hall. Applause erupted vigorously.

That person began their speech with a slight Newfoundland accent.

“In response to these heretical criticisms, I intend to answer with a religious speech as permitted by the program.” “Dr. Helseas Mattun’s argument stands as a quintessential example of syllogistic reasoning.” “First, he presented his theological doctrine and had the assembly acknowledge it twice to establish his major premise; next, he posited that vegetarians defy this doctrine as his minor premise; finally, he concluded that vegetarians therefore defy God—implying that by clinging to the minor virtue of plant-based diets, they commit the grave sin of opposing divine will.” “It is indeed a model of concise clarity.”

“However, it is with the deepest regret that I have some doubts regarding this typical logic.” “First, the concise theology that Dr. Mattun extracted from old Christian theology to suit the 1920s—viewed solely through this terminology—appears entirely appropriate.” “The people gathered here today are not solely Christians; however, this is something that any religion would wish to assert.” “However, this is by no means Dr. Mattun’s theology.” “This is entirely commonplace.”

“Secondly, regarding the interpretation of that theology—this is where my gravest doubts lie.” “Above all, when it comes to interpreting providence, Dr. Mattun cannot by any measure be called a believer.” “The concept of providence is by no means unique to Christianity; it is common to all religions in general. Yet misinterpretations like those made by our esteemed theologian here are regrettably abundant across every faith.” “To reiterate the doctor’s argument—though I have recorded it verbatim—let me read it again: ‘All events within are divine providence.’” “‘Everything, absolutely everything, aligns with His divine will.’” “‘It is truly the pinnacle of reverence.’” “‘Praise the Lord’s blessings! His will remains inscrutable—all of this is providence.’” “‘It is His grace.’” “‘It is good.’” “‘And so it goes.’” “If we were to condense this further: ‘All phenomena are good because they exist within divine providence.’ While this may seem acceptable at first glance, it is profoundly dangerous.” “Here, ‘good’ refers to goodness as perceived by God.” “An absolute good.” “Yet if we interpret this ‘good’ through our own human perspective—as Dr. Mattun does—his earlier argument emerges.” “‘All phenomena are good: If I eat a cow, it is good by providence; if I grow enraged and strike Dr. Mattun, it is good by providence—for these are phenomena within providence, and God’s will cannot be measured!’” “‘Thus: If I point a pistol at you all and steal your travel funds for home—splendid! If someone threatens me and I nearly fail to rob you—I fire a shot! That person dies—good by providence!’” “What proves even more amusing is that here we have a group called vegetarians who claim not to eat animals.” “If this is divine providence—if this is good—then why does Dr. Mattun denounce it with such fury that his very hair might pierce the heavens, as Easterners would say?” “At this point, Dr. Mattun’s argument reveals itself to be pure self-contradiction.” “This conclusion truly employs excellent terminology.”

“However, these are not my own humble words; they are indeed what I saw this morning in a meat-eating propaganda pamphlet from the Chicago Livestock Association.” “In conclusion, I express my profound respect to the courageous Dr. Mattun.”

The applause was so thunderous it seemed to overturn the canopy.

“That’s rather blatant—not very educator-like behavior for a vegetarian,” said Mr. Chen with booming laughter.

But before that applause had even died down, another person—a gaunt, nervous-looking man from the heretic seats—had already rushed up to the altar. The man’s hands trembled violently, and his eyes appeared to be twitching. Even so, after drinking a glass of water and seeming to calm down somewhat, he took a step forward and began his speech.

“Dr. Mattun’s theology is Christian theology.” “Moreover, his interpretation of providence contains regrettable flaws entirely akin to those of the previous speaker.” “However, I know that approximately ten percent of the vegetarians gathered here are Buddhists.” “I too am in truth a Buddhist.” “The reason I—born in a Christian nation—believe in Buddhism is undeniably its profundity.” “I belong to the Honganji sect revealed through Saint Shinran, incarnation of Amitabha Buddha.” “Therefore, as a Buddhist, I wish to address my fellow vegetarian Buddhists here.” “This world is suffering; nothing within it exists free from suffering—here all is contradiction.” “All is sin.” “Not even a speck of good’s trace can be found within our mental landscape.” “The good we perceive in this world is ultimately a rootless tree.” “The justice we feel amounts merely to what gratifies ourselves.” “‘This must be done thus,’ ‘That should be done so’—all such notions are meaningless.” “To claim we abstain from eating animals out of pity—this we cannot rightfully say.” “The truth lies far beyond such simplicity.” “We must return to Amitabha Buddha—the Enlightened Savior of the West—and depart this contradictory world.” “Only then may vegetarianism become acceptable.” “This requires no debate: Saint Shinran himself partook of meat before us all, and our Honganji Temple has perpetuated this practice through generations.” “To describe Japanese adherents—they inherit meat-eating as one transfers water between jars.” “Next behold Shakyamuni—founder of Buddhism.”

“Shakyamuni engaged in six years of rigorous ascetic practice in the forest known as Dandaka Mountain in his quest for the path of renunciation. He ate one grain of rice and one flax seed per day. However, he finally realized the futility of his ascetic practices, descended the mountain, washed his body in the river, took and ate the cream offered by a village girl, and thereby attained spiritual enlightenment. There are vegetarians today who do not even consume milk, chicken eggs, cheese, or butter. These [vegetarians], if they are Buddhists, require no debate; even if they are not Buddhists, they should greatly serve as a reference. Furthermore, Shakyamuni never prohibited meat consumption to the many followers who gathered. He permitted the consumption of meat from animals not obtained through excessively cruel acts, designating it as the Five Kinds of Pure Meat. Today’s vegetarians are indeed stricter than the ancient sages of India when it comes to matters of food. However, this is ultimately a deformity—a crippled state. Even if they are strict in food alone, they do not follow even one of the other precepts established by Shakyamuni. Especially, you vegetarians must take this to heart. In his later years, as his philosophy matured further, Shakyamuni apparently was not strictly a vegetarian at all. Look! Shakyamuni, in his final moments, accepted food offered by Chanda the blacksmith. The food consisted mainly of pork; it seems that Shakyamuni’s already damaged stomach was rendered beyond salvation because of this pork. Because of that, he finally attained parinirvana at the age of eighty-one in Kushinagar. Fellow Buddhists, look to Shakyamuni as your example; take his actions as your model. Become likenesses of Shakyamuni; practice all his virtues at scales of one twenty-thousandth, one fifty-thousandth, or even one two-hundred-thousandth. Only after that may vegetarianism be acceptable. Believers like you all—deformed as you are—would likely trouble even Shakyamuni in the afterlife.”

The applause was so thunderous it seemed to overturn the tent.

At that moment, I was so overwhelmed by the sheer cruelty of those words that my head spun. And then I staggered out unsteadily. When I thought about what I was going to say, I was already standing on the podium looking down at everyone.

Mr. Chen was clapping vigorously at the farthest end. Everyone appeared like flowers across a meadow. I spoke.

“While the previous speaker, as a Buddhist, has denied vegetarianism and advocated meat-eating, I must regrettably—as a devout disciple of Shakyamuni—point out the fallacies in his arguments.” “First and foremost, what must be stated here in advance is that the previous speaker ultimately possesses nothing more than an antiquarian curiosity toward Buddhism—particularly toward the corrupt Japanese religious authority—and is neither a Buddhist disciple nor a Buddhist.” “This is clearly evident from his employment of impermissible language toward the many Tathagatas—the perfectly enlightened ones—during his speech.” “Look especially at his final words—‘Shakyamuni in the afterlife must surely be troubled.’ What manner of statement is this? Could any who believe in the Tathagatas dare claim they reside ‘underground’? We shall never permit such demonic apostles who don the outer skin of Buddhist disciples while harboring arrogant and wicked hearts!” “Behold, he attempts to measure that supreme truth with his mustard seed’s worth of knowledge—a theory I am now ashamed even to repeat, yet for the sake of proof, I must point out that he states thus:” “‘The reason I, born in a Christian country, believe in Buddhism is undeniably because Buddhism is profound.’” “Christian believers—reversing the situation, would you accept this proposition? That one born in a Buddhist country believes in Christianity for no other reason than Christianity’s profundity.” “Ladies and gentlemen, you must find such frivolity utterly distasteful.” “If I were to speak from my perspective, someone like the previous speaker has no capacity whatsoever to discern which doctrine holds profundity.” “Next, the previous speaker discussed the concept of good in our world.” “‘The good that exists in this world is, after all, a rootless tree’—this likely means that without receiving the Tathagata’s power, there can be no good. I too believe this.” “‘Claims like “this should be done thus” or “this must be done like that” amount to nothing’—this too holds true only when we act by our own designs without following the Tathagata’s will.” “It seems the previous speaker also spoke in that sense.” “‘You must quickly return to that Enlightened One of the West’—this remains a point of considerable debate within Buddhism.” “I will avoid this for now.” “Let us we Buddhists first resolve to follow solely the teachings recorded in Shakyamuni’s Buddhist sutras.” “If one follows the Buddhist sutras, it is made clear in the Lankavatara Sutra that the Five Kinds of Pure Meat were permitted only to those whose practice was immature.” “Moreover, in the Mahaparinirvana Sutra, it is stipulated that from this time forth, you Buddhist disciples are not permitted to eat meat.” “Even these Five Kinds of Pure Meat are not as simple as the previous speaker made them out to be—merely requiring they not be obtained through excessively cruel acts.” “As it appears someone else was scheduled to address dietary regulations within Buddhism, I will omit this here.”

“However, in conclusion—the previous speaker claimed that the offering received by Shakyamuni at his end was pork. What a mistake! It was not pork but a type of mushroom.” “This error arose from a hasty misinterpretation of two similar-sounding Sanskrit terms.” “Thus, I hereby respond to the previous speaker using his own conclusion.” “Fellow Buddhists—emulate Shakyamuni! Become likenesses of Shakyamuni! Practice all his virtues at scales of one twenty-thousandth, one fifty-thousandth, or even one two-hundred-thousandth!”

Ah, how frivolous this tone was! I myself had said this and felt ashamed for having uttered it.

I next intended to discuss the naturalness of abstaining from meat-eating based on religious principles. The spirit of Christianity, to put it in a word, would be God’s love. The phrase "God created heaven and earth"—this act of creation—was ultimately a metaphor directed at us, an expression. There was no need to put forth erroneous providential theories like Dr. Mattun’s. After all, it was love. It was love for all living beings. How could killing and eating them ever be considered natural?

If we speak of the spirit of Buddhism, it is compassion—the Tathagata’s compassion, a love endowed with perfect wisdom. The very foundation of Buddhism lies in this: that all living beings, suffering and sorrowful as we are, desire alongside us to be liberated from this state of suffering. What are these living beings? Though this truth may be too grave and wound your hearts, ladies and gentlemen, it cannot be avoided; I intend to state it frankly. All living beings have repeatedly undergone transmigration upon transmigration since the immeasurable kalpas of the past. The stages of transmigration are broadly divided into nine. We see two of them before our very eyes. A soul at times manifests as a human. At times it is born among beasts—that is, what we call animals. At times it is born in the heavenly realms. In between, they draw near to and part from various other souls. That is to say, they become friends, lovers, siblings, or parent and child. Once separated and divided by different lives, they no longer recognize one another. In infinite time, infinite combinations are possible. Therefore, all living beings around us are parents, siblings, and children over vast spans of time. The gentlemen of other faiths will likely find this concept profoundly serious and terrifying. To a terrifying degree, this world is a profoundly serious one. “That is all I wished to present.”

I acknowledged them with a bow and stepped down from the podium as considerable applause broke out. The theology doctors in the opposition seats showed no sign of wishing to argue further. Yet even among those in the opposition seats, not all were theology doctors. A man with a large scar across his forehead—bearing some resemblance to Haeckel—suddenly rose from his chair. From this morning's pamphlet considerations, I had concluded he must be a zoologist.

The man, his face bright red, hurriedly ascended the altar. We applauded generously. With trembling hands, the man poured water into a cup and drank. A little water also spilled outside the cup. The trembling was so severe that I even began to suspect he might have a mental illness. However, when he drank the water, the man suddenly calmed down completely. Then, very quietly, he moved his mouth as if to say something, but the words would not come out. Everyone fell silent. The man suddenly exploded into a shout. He stammered two or three times.

“Wh-wh-why… why… why do you… you… you claim not to eat animals, yet w-w-wear… wear… sheep’s wool hats?” The man trembled violently from excitement and then frantically drank water. Oh no, this was serious trouble. The inside of the tent was filled with roaring laughter. Mr. Chen also clapped his hands and rolled around before saying.

“He’s the spitting image of John Hillgard!”

“What’s this ‘John Hillgard’?” I asked.

“He’s a comedian, you know.” “From the New York Theater.” “But Hillgard doesn’t have that kind of scar between his eyebrows.”

“I see.”

After that, both the opposition seats and the dissident seats fell completely silent, and no one came forward to stand at the rostrum. Deputy Chief Priest surveyed the venue for a while, and after the commotion had subsided, he calmly made his way to the opposition seats. It seemed as though he had asked if there were any others who wished to speak, but since no one answered in the profound silence, the Deputy Chief Priest gave a slight bow and withdrew.

“They seem completely defeated, don’t they?” Mr. Chen said to me. I was actually quite pleased. It was because the Chicago forces, which had appeared so formidable, had crumbled so utterly. To say this makes it sound like baseball, but that’s exactly what it was. At that moment, the electric bell rang for an exceedingly long time. At that clear sound, my excited heart returned once more to a mood akin to Newfoundland’s transparent September. It seemed everyone else felt the same way.

Mr. Chen

“I’ll go set off another one,” he said as he stood up and left.

At that moment.

Dr. Helseas Mattun stood dejectedly on the podium once more. Then he bowed despondently and spoke.

“Everyone, today I have come to know the increasingly vast and profound nature of God’s divine will. Initially, I attended this assembly as a Christian believer who consumed both [meat and plants], but now God has commanded me to become a devout Vegetarian believer. I humbly beseech you, esteemed seniors: even someone as foolish as myself—pray permit me to join your pure assembly as your fellow believer.”

And then he stepped down from the podium and stood with his head bowed.

The Deputy Chief Priest immediately stepped forward and shook hands. Everyone cheered and clapped enthusiastically, welcoming this new believer. Then the opposition seats were already in complete disarray. Their faces darkened, and all at once they stood up and all at once surged onto the podium.

“We repent. Please forgive us. We will all become Vegetarians,” they declared in unison.

The Deputy Chief Priest immediately stepped forward and shook hands with each person one by one. And one by one, they descended from the podium and sat in our chairs. It was filled with cheers and applause. The chairs were just perfectly arranged. Somehow, everything was just too perfectly arranged. At that moment outside came a booming report as another of Mr. Chen’s signal fires went up. Mr. Chen had already entered—he gave me a slight bow and said while still standing there gazing across.

“My, my—everyone’s converted! How abrupt. Ah, the chairs fit perfectly… Hmm, one seat left. Oh right—only that Hillgard lookalike from earlier is still holding out.” Sure enough, the man who resembled that comedian from earlier was sitting all alone in the opposition seats, crossing his arms, tousling his hair, and acting so theatrically that everyone finally burst into uproarious laughter. “As for that man’s inner turmoil—I can’t make heads or tails of it,” Mr. Chen said.

However, that person finally stood up. And he ascended the platform.

“Everyone, I was wrong. “I was lost. “I will become a Vegetarian starting today. “No—I feel like I’ve been a Vegetarian all along. “It seems I mistakenly sat in the opposition seats earlier, and because of that, I ended up giving that opposing speech. “Everyone, forgive me. “Moreover, I believe all those who sat in the opposition seats today must have made the same seating mistake as I did. “That does seem to be the case. “The proof is that now everyone is seated in the believers’ section. “How about it, former opposition gentlemen—isn’t that right?”

What astonished me was how everyone—starting with Dr. Helseas Mattun—all stood up at once. “That’s right,” they answered. “Exactly. “Having reflected on this, I must return to my true self. “I am—as you may well know—Hillgard of the New York troupe. “Today, I was asked by the Deputy Chief Priest to stage a play to liven up this festival. “As for this grand performance we’ve enacted—if any among you take issue with it, pray aim your arrows of censure at the Deputy Chief Priest. “For I am but a timid believer at heart.”

Hillgard bowed, descended from the podium like a fleeing rabbit, and settled into the single remaining empty seat. “We’ve been had! Utterly had!” Mr. Chen doubled over laughing; roaring laughter, cheers, and applause threatened to shake the festival venue apart. Yet I stood utterly dumbfounded by this abruptness. So dazed was I that the illusion of our joyous Vegetarian Grand Festival had already crumbled. For the remainder, I implore you all to complete this affair however you please—use some clichéd dance scene from motion pictures or whatever trite ending suits you.