Hello and welcome to Eight Years In! And if you’re returning, welcome back! Thanks for returning to this blog and hearing what I have to say. Now, today we’re talking about an interesting topic that any vegan is going to hold near and dear to their heart. But the title might seem a bit sensationalist. So let’s start there, and I’ll explain myself.
“Blocked vegetarians”
I read a book some years ago called “Living Among Meat Eaters”. And while I definitely don’t remember many of the points made in that book, I do remember something quite curious. The author, Carol Adams, has an interesting philosophy about meat eaters. She calls them “blocked vegetarians”, and encourages the reader to consider them as such.
What she means by this concept is pretty much as follows: in our culture, we are taught that eating animals is normal and okay. But yet, contradictory to that, we are simultaneously a cultural of animal lovers. And curiously, due to the low population of vegans and vegetarians, you’ll find that the majority of self-professed animal lovers are meat eaters. If most of us are honest with ourselves, we can see the glaring irony of that. (Because love is not the same as killing and eating, obviously.) And while it doesn’t apply to everyone (there are definitely people who aren’t animal lovers and don’t have any interest or concern for animal well-being), we find that most people are uncomfortable with the idea of eating meat, as well as the other things that the animal agriculture industry does.
We are what we’re taught
This thought of the blocked vegetarian has stuck with me to this day. I know many people who are “supportive of my veganism”. They “think it’s a good thing” and “agree it’s what people should be doing”, and yet none of that leads them to be vegetarian or vegan. I don’t think that everyone’s a blocked vegetarian like Carol Adams seems to suggest in her book. But it’s a very common thing for children to be shocked and appalled when they first find out meat is “made from animals”. It’s not an abnormal thing for them to feel uncomfortable with this truth, and often parents chuckle at the innocence and assure them that “this is okay to do” and “this is just how things are”. But what if we didn’t?
I can’t help but wonder what percentage of people only eat meat because their authorities told them to, or because they saw their peers doing it and wanted to fit in. We’ll never know because it is impossible to separate the individual from their societal environment on a large scale. But it is definitely worth consideration.
What would happen if eating meat wasn’t so ubiquitous? Or, if even though most people still did it, it was viewed in our societies and institutions as optional, extra, and not the expectation? We can only wonder what sorts of decisions we’d feel the impulse to make then. But we don’t live in that world. We live in this one, where meat eaters are the norm. And yet, some of us still grow up to quit and go vegan or vegetarian. Obviously, this being a vegan blog, I’m going to say that’s a good thing. But the real question is what causes us to do it? And just as (if not more) importantly, what causes others to not do the same?
“Why” we go vegan
You see, we can follow infinite Twitter threads about “why did you go vegan” and hear the same mishmash of five answers over and over again about health, environment, animals. And yes, those are the reasons. But I don’t think we’re asking the right question at all. What we should be asking ourselves is as follows: What made us feel that we were finally able to go vegan? What gave us the feeling that we had the ability to make that choice?
This is a semantics argument, to be sure. But it’s not an unimportant one. Because you’ll find that for the vast majority of vegans, the reasons are the same. Veganism is good for the animals. It can be good for your health and it often is for the planet. But the stories that led us there are what we’re not seeing. We want to think that we’re all so logical and that we made the decision because of reasons. Which we did, certainly. But that doesn’t mean there were no precursors. With nonvegans, the reasons don’t change. And as much as some vegans would have a hard time admitting, nonvegans are not, on average, less compassionate or reasonable than the average vegan. The precursors, however, do change.
Who do we listen to?
It’s for this reason I find myself balled in a knot. We vegans think that we should listen to other vegans about why they went vegan, because they weren’t always vegan and they made the switch, which is obviously what we think others should do. And yet, nonvegans almost without fail will argue the opposite. That we should listen to them about why they haven’t gone vegan. Why they haven’t made the switch. And who are we to believe?
It’s clear that the side of nonveganism tends to be mired in a vague sense of cognitive dissonance. Which, by definition, makes it hard to listen to the points of nonvegans and take them seriously. When their argument boils down to essentially “well, I could but I just…haven’t” which for many, it often does, they really aren’t giving us much to work with anyway. But it’s also reductionist to ask a vegan why they decided to go vegan and think that the same logic will apply to nonvegans. We vegans may not always understand the deeper reasons and circumstances that caused us to make the change ourselves, especially if it happened years ago. So what are we supposed to do if we want to understand why people aren’t going vegan?
Nobody really knows
So we’ve already covered briefly why nonvegans don’t know. They would have to move in a way that is incredibly counter-cultural and apply it continually throughout their days and in different aspects of their lives. The fact that they haven’t done it means that they’re probably unaware of what it would actually take, especially (though not solely) if they haven’t tried. Not to mention that cognitive dissonance we mentioned before gets in the way of all sorts of things. It “protects” them, in a way. It keeps them from having to feel too much discomfort around their “normal” actions. And that lack of discomfort can skew their decision, not to mention their perception of it and ability to articulate it.
But vegans don’t know either. As I said, as days and weeks become months and years, we can often forget or rewrite the circumstances and story behind the start of our vegan voyage. Not to mention that even if we do get to the heart of the question and start considering circumstances instead of reasons, a lot of us (like anyone, because we’re only human) like to give answers that make us sound good. It’s not that anything we’re saying is a lie, necessarily. (Although I’m sure there are vegans who do lie about that sort of thing.) But it sounds better to say that we simply couldn’t be a part of such atrocities anymore and leave it at that, instead of more closely examining the messy intricacies of our human behavior which may be less flattering. Because, especially with things that are counter-cultural, people go back on their convictions all the time.
What makes you, as a long term vegan, different? What makes this not a phase? A why is important. Crucial, even. But just a why is not enough. I’ve met people who have watched the same footage I have when I first went vegan. They went vegan, or vegetarian. They shared the same sentiments I did back then, and I know they were not the kind of people to tell me what I wanted to hear. So why did they go back?
We’re all human
I keep coming back to this one singular point. We are all infuriatingly, messily human. And this can be confusing because of that ever-present contradiction of humanity. We’re all so different. And yet deep down, we’re all still the same. We’re all still governed by the same human nature. What differs between us is our circumstances, our propensities for certain things, and, perhaps the biggest thing, what we decide to feed our brains and our hearts.
It’s easy to be angry at nonvegans for their seeming apathy toward the horrors that humanity continues to carelessly commit to animals. It’s easy to think that because we have made the decision to go vegan and they have not (or they returned to not being vegan) that there must be something fundamentally different about us and them. But I assure you, there’s not. And this thinking doesn’t do us, them, or the animals any good.
That anger that you feel for the animals, it’s justified. But that frustration that you feel towards the nonvegans because you know they’re a good person and yet they don’t seem to care? That’s real too. The fact is in this life, there’s no one measure of a good person. And good people do bad things all the time. Every single day. Some by negligence, some by ignorance. And I’m not saying all of this to discourage you from speaking up for the animals, not at all. The animals both need and deserve your voice. Not to mention, nonvegans don’t gain from you coddling them either.
No, we owe it to ourselves, the animals, and the nonvegans to not hide the truth or water it down in hopes that we don’t offend their defensiveness. That being said, if we can learn to communicate from the place of “this is a bad thing” instead of “you are participating in this bad thing so you are a bad person”, we would probably find our efforts to be more effective. If nonvegans are condemned before they’ve even begun, how are they going to find belonging in this group that we want them to join?
Why people really decide for or against veganism
If we want a complete picture about why people are at their current vegan or nonvegan status, we’re going to have to listen to both sides, and take them both with a grain of salt. The fact is, nobody makes decisions in a vacuum and there are always contributing factors. We have to understand that when a nonvegan says they “like the taste”, they might mean anything from “this is the only meal I learned how to make” to “I don’t know what vegan food tastes like” to “I’m scared of trying new things”.
And we have to understand on the flip side that when a vegan says “for the animals, for the people, for the planet” they might mean “I tried it for a week and realized it wasn’t that hard” or “when I was on food stamps, I actually couldn’t afford to eat meat” or “I moved out and finally could make decisions for myself”. This isn’t to say that nonvegans don’t actually like the taste of meat or that vegans aren’t going vegan for the animals, their health, and the environment. Only that our decisions are more complex than we might realize or be able to verbalize.
I personally made the decision when I felt that I had nothing more that could be taken away from me. My life had reached a breaking point where it didn’t matter if everyone hated me or if I was malnourished or if I would never eat delicious food again. I needed to feel okay about myself and what I was participating in in my life to be able to fall asleep at night and still wake up in the morning.
Luckily, I found that on the other side of veganism I still was able to keep good relationships with my friends and loved ones, stay healthy (in fact, healthier than ever), and that vegan food can be amazing. And while I know that I did go vegan for ethical reasons, I’m not sure I ever would have done it if I hadn’t reached that breaking point first. I know that I’m not some sort of bastion of self-discipline or compassion. While I try my best to be a good person, I’m still human. And under different circumstances, who’s to say I wouldn’t have continued to do what most humans in today’s world are currently doing? (Which is burying their heads in the sand, pretending like how we treat animals is fine.)
I know that not everyone has to stoop that low in their lives to go and stay vegan. But that’s when I made my decision. So as much as it bothers me speaking to others who could go vegan more easily than I could when I first did, I really can’t be too high up on my soapbox about it. Because they may not have been that low before.
A word against individually-focused activism
It’s at this point where I want to point out something. Because if you’re still reading, you’re clearly interested in what I have to say. I believe at some point, most long-term vegans will come to the conclusion that their activism cannot be focused on individuals. Listen, I’m all for being honest with the people in our lives. And everyone in my personal life is incredibly clear on how I feel about animal agriculture and its reaches into my life as well as the social gatherings I’m invited to and attend. However, the social circle you’re born into and have access to around you may not be the ones who are willing to go vegan (or, sadly, listen to you about things that you find important). You may not live in a place where you’ve met another vegan. And yes, these places do exist.
The longer you’re vegan, the more you start to realize “Hey, my family doesn’t want to hear about this. I don’t think they’re going vegan with me.” (And other thoughts like that.) This doesn’t mean that the door closes for them. You’ll always leave space for them to ask questions and help them if they want in the future. Of course. But after a while, you’re going to want to open a different door. Whether they go vegan alongside of you or not.
Taking a wider view
Getting involved in broader vegan activism is incredibly important. Because the animals need your voice. But also, no matter what your family, friends and peers do or don’t do, at some point, the topic will more or less close out. The ones who aren’t ready will make it clear and any further pushing can sour a relationship and give a bad association with veganism itself. And the ones who go vegan, well, they will have gone vegan. And then what? We still don’t live in a vegan world, or vegan communities and society. That doesn’t just go away. All you can do is get involved. Raise your voice in other ways, learn what gifts you’re capable of giving.
Join groups, make art, build a brand. Don’t let your self-esteem as a vegan and an activist be completely dependent on the people in your immediate personal life or you will go crazy. Let yourself reach the world around you. Because, as I’m sure you’re well aware, veganism is bigger than you. And maybe you specifically don’t need to convince that one person. Maybe it’s better if you just show a bunch of other people that you may never truly know in real life. This is also valid.
Maybe you’ll never understand why your animal-loving little brother won’t stop buying steak at the supermarket. But by learning to be honest with ourselves about our reasons and contributing factors as well as listening to others (both their words and their actions), you might open up a path for somebody else. Or many people. If you’re interested in hearing more about effective activism, take a look at this post I made.
Tell your story
Thank you for listening to my thoughts. Let us know with a comment why you were finally able to feel like you could make the decision to go vegan. Or, if you’re not vegan, why you think you haven’t gone vegan yet. Who do you think we should listen to about making the decision to go vegan? Vegans or nonvegans? And as usual, have an awesome day!