Down the food route

In his latest blog entry, Malachy Tallack charts the course of food from the field to the freezer

There are those who argue that anyone who is willing to eat meat should also be willing to kill it themselves, and I can certainly understand the logic of that statement. There is a huge degree of pretence in much of the food that is consumed today.

The supermarkets are filled with pre-prepared and packaged meat, to which everything possible has been done to try and disguise the fact that it originated from a living creature. But despite that, I’m quite sure that most carnivores, in the right situation, would kill rather than starve. They would just prefer not to. And I don’t blame them.

Killing an animal is not an enjoyable experience, and anyone who does enjoy it should probably not be allowed near animals in the first place. Nor is it something that should be taken lightly.

I suppose the closer an animal is, in biological terms, to humans, the more difficult it must become to harm it. Swatting a bluebottle or squashing an ant wouldn’t trouble too many people’s consciences; killing a fish to eat would also pose little difficulty for most. But as you climb the evolutionary ladder, it gets more complicated.

Croft lambs from Fair Isle are sent to mainland Shetland to be sold. From there, most will be shipped to Scotland and sent to abattoirs there. The hill lambs however, stay on the isle, and are killed and eaten by the crofters themselves.

To have a freezer full of meat that you can guarantee has had a good life, and that will also taste fantastic, is a huge privilege, and is one of the greatest benefits of crofting. Indeed, it is this self-sufficiency which is meant to be at the heart of the crofting lifestyle. It is unfortunate I suppose, that sheep don’t get themselves ready to be eaten, and that we have to intervene, but that’s just the way it is.

From the field to the freezer is a process of a few days for a lamb. Once dead, it is skinned, gutted and hung for about three days before being cut up, ready to eat or to freeze. The job of getting it ready becomes gradually less unpleasant from beginning to end.

Butchering is pretty easy. By that stage the lamb has become meat, and it is simply a case of learning how to turn a whole carcass into roasts, chops, steaks and stew. Skinning and gutting are not nice jobs. They are messy, time-consuming and not for the weak-stomached. But it is the first part – the killing – which is the difficult bit.

For those who do it as a job, or who have done it every year for many years, I suppose it must become automatic and unquestioned. For me it is neither. And though, in reality, the death itself is quick and painless for the animal, it is a moment that lingers.

In some cultures, taking an animal’s life is an act of great spiritual importance, and many rituals have grown up around it, each marking the event as something significant. In Christianity too, saying grace and giving thanks must serve, in part, as a reminder that this food, this meat, is not to be taken for granted.

For me there is no ritual to be performed, and I would not go so far as to say that it is a spiritual event. But I do recognise something significant in it. And that recognition seems to be enough to satisfy any concerns, and, most importantly, to allow me to enjoy the food that it brings.

Malachy Tallack is 26 and lives in Fair Isle. He is a singer-songwriter, journalist, and editor of the magazine Shetland Life.
Show Hide image

What it’s like to fall victim to the Mail Online’s aggregation machine

I recently travelled to Iraq at my own expense to write a piece about war graves. Within five hours of the story's publication by the Times, huge chunks of it appeared on Mail Online – under someone else's byline.

I recently returned from a trip to Iraq, and wrote an article for the Times on the desecration of Commonwealth war cemeteries in the southern cities of Amara and Basra. It appeared in Monday’s paper, and began:

“‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the engraving reads, but the words ring hollow. The stone on which they appear lies shattered in a foreign field that should forever be England, but patently is anything but.”

By 6am, less than five hours after the Times put it online, a remarkably similar story had appeared on Mail Online, the world’s biggest and most successful English-language website with 200 million unique visitors a month.

It began: “Despite being etched with the immortal line: ‘Their name liveth for evermore’, the truth could not be further from the sentiment for the memorials in the Commonwealth War Cemetery in Amara.”

The article ran under the byline of someone called Euan McLelland, who describes himself on his personal website as a “driven, proactive and reliable multi-media reporter”. Alas, he was not driven or proactive enough to visit Iraq himself. His story was lifted straight from mine – every fact, every quote, every observation, the only significant difference being the introduction of a few errors and some lyrical flights of fancy. McLelland’s journalistic research extended to discovering the name of a Victoria Cross winner buried in one of the cemeteries – then getting it wrong.

Within the trade, lifting quotes and other material without proper acknowledgement is called plagiarism. In the wider world it is called theft. As a freelance, I had financed my trip to Iraq (though I should eventually recoup my expenses of nearly £1,000). I had arranged a guide and transport. I had expended considerable time and energy on the travel and research, and had taken the risk of visiting a notoriously unstable country. Yet McLelland had seen fit not only to filch my work but put his name on it. In doing so, he also precluded the possibility of me selling the story to any other publication.

I’m being unfair, of course. McLelland is merely a lackey. His job is to repackage and regurgitate. He has no time to do what proper journalists do – investigate, find things out, speak to real people, check facts. As the astute media blog SubScribe pointed out, on the same day that he “exposed” the state of Iraq’s cemeteries McLelland also wrote stories about the junior doctors’ strike, British special forces fighting Isis in Iraq, a policeman’s killer enjoying supervised outings from prison, methods of teaching children to read, the development of odourless garlic, a book by Lee Rigby’s mother serialised in the rival Mirror, and Michael Gove’s warning of an immigration free-for-all if Britain brexits. That’s some workload.

Last year James King published a damning insider’s account of working at Mail Online for the website Gawker. “I saw basic journalism standards and ethics casually and routinely ignored. I saw other publications’ work lifted wholesale. I watched editors...publish information they knew to be inaccurate,” he wrote. “The Mail’s editorial model depends on little more than dishonesty, theft of copyrighted material, and sensationalism so absurd that it crosses into fabrication.”

Mail Online strenuously denied the charges, but there is plenty of evidence to support them. In 2014, for example, it was famously forced to apologise to George Clooney for publishing what the actor described as a bogus, baseless and “premeditated lie” about his future mother-in-law opposing his marriage to Amal Alamuddin.

That same year it had to pay a “sizeable amount” to a freelance journalist named Jonathan Krohn for stealing his exclusive account in the Sunday Telegraph of being besieged with the Yazidis on northern Iraq’s Mount Sinjar by Islamic State fighters. It had to compensate another freelance, Ali Kefford, for ripping off her exclusive interview for the Mirror with Sarah West, the first female commander of a Navy warship.

Incensed by the theft of my own story, I emailed Martin Clarke, publisher of Mail Online, attaching an invoice for several hundred pounds. I heard nothing, so emailed McLelland to ask if he intended to pay me for using my work. Again I heard nothing, so I posted both emails on Facebook and Twitter.

I was astonished by the support I received, especially from my fellow journalists, some of them household names, including several victims of Mail Online themselves. They clearly loathed the website and the way it tarnishes and debases their profession. “Keep pestering and shaming them till you get a response,” one urged me. Take legal action, others exhorted me. “Could a groundswell from working journalists develop into a concerted effort to stop the theft?” SubScribe asked hopefully.

Then, as pressure from social media grew, Mail Online capitulated. Scott Langham, its deputy managing editor, emailed to say it would pay my invoice – but “with no admission of liability”. He even asked if it could keep the offending article up online, only with my byline instead of McLelland’s. I declined that generous offer and demanded its removal.

When I announced my little victory on Facebook some journalistic colleagues expressed disappointment, not satisfaction. They had hoped this would be a test case, they said. They wanted Mail Online’s brand of “journalism” exposed for what it is. “I was spoiling for a long war of attrition,” one well-known television correspondent lamented. Instead, they complained, a website widely seen as the model for future online journalism had simply bought off yet another of its victims.