Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat: Why It's So Hard to Think Straight About Animals

Hal Herzog’s 'Some We Love, Some We Hate, Some We Eat' plunges into the bewildering and paradoxical landscape of human-animal relationships, a field known as anthrozoology. With the sharp eye of a social scientist and the curiosity of an investigative journalist, Herzog maps the illogical terrain where sentiment, ethics, culture, and appetite violently collide. The book begins not with abstract philosophy, but with the visceral, everyday contradictions: the person who donates to animal shelters while wearing leather shoes, or the society that prosecutes dog abusers while systematically slaughtering billions of chickens.

Herzog structures his inquiry as a series of immersive, often unsettling field reports. He ventures into the clandestine world of cockfighting, where handlers exhibit genuine care for birds destined for violent spectacle. He observes animal rights conferences, parsing the psychological profiles of activists. He examines the clinical detachment of biomedical researchers and the obsessive devotion of pet hoarders. Each chapter serves as a case study in moral inconsistency, challenging the reader’s own unexamined assumptions. The narrative deftly blends these anecdotes with findings from psychology, evolutionary biology, and behavioral economics to explain why our brains are wired for such dissonance.

The book argues that our treatment of animals is less a product of reasoned ethical systems and more a function of cognitive biases, emotional proximity, and cultural scaffolding. Concepts like the 'cuteness' response, speciesism, and the 'meat paradox'—the mental gymnastics required to love animals while eating them—are dissected with analytical rigor and dark humor. Herzog explores how distance, both physical and psychological, facilitates mass exploitation, and how arbitrary lines are drawn between pets, pests, and protein.

Ultimately, Herzog resists offering a tidy moral resolution. Instead, the book’s significance lies in its fearless examination of ambiguity itself. It is essential reading for anyone who has ever felt a twinge of cognitive dissonance about their place in the animal kingdom. By holding a mirror to our collective hypocrisy, Herzog does not advocate for a specific ideology but for greater intellectual honesty, compelling us to confront the uncomfortable, fascinating, and deeply human mess of our moral lives.

Readers find the book intellectually thrilling and profoundly unsettling, forcing a direct confrontation with their own ethical contradictions. The engaging, anecdotal style is widely praised for making complex behavioral science accessible and darkly humorous. However, a significant contingent criticizes the author's perceived moral relativism and lack of a definitive stance, leaving some frustrated by the ambivalent conclusion. The central thesis—that human-animal ethics are inherently inconsistent—resonates powerfully, even when it discomforts.