[img]7|left|||no_popup[/img]A recent conversation with an archery pal began with discussing the price of food at Disneyland – it’s expensive. To this observation I added, “Try being vegetarian or vegan!” The point being, of course, that trying to find healthy food that doesn’t involve meat is oftentimes a task worthy of Hercules. But out of that discussion came two sticking points I’ve been struggling with as a (baseline) vegan. It all boils down to how rigidly one defines “vegan,” and I’m not sure I agree with the strictest interpretation.
This is the definition as set forth by Donald Watson, who coined the term “vegan,” from the Vegan Society’s Articles of Association:
“[T]he word “veganism” denotes a philosophy and way of living which seeks to exclude — as far as is possible and practical — all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose; and by extension, promotes the development and use of animal-free alternatives for the benefit of humans, animals and the environment. In dietary terms it denotes the practice of dispensing with all products derived wholly or partly from animals.” (http://www.vegansociety.com/html/downloads/ArticlesofAssociation.pdf) [img]496|left|Article of Association||no_popup[/img]
It is entirely sensible. The sticking point I come across is that it’s (arguably) something of a luxury to eat vegetables, grains, fruit, legumes, and nuts year-round – all thanks to globalized agriculture, international trade, and living in sunny California. Strip away these modern, and vulnerable, conveniences, throw in some real seasons, and would it still be possible to maintain a strict vegan lifestyle? The answer, I’m sure, depends on any number of factors. But if you live in, say, Montgomery, Alabama, you might be hard-pressed to find a vegetarian restaurant let alone a vegan one. (See the Montgomery listing at happycow.net, a directory of veggie restaurants.)
The second sticking point is that of survival logic. If the choice comes down between starving to death or hunting and eating, say, a rabbit, what is the correct moral decision for a vegan? To make it more difficult, what if it came down to feeding a child? Here, then, is the practical limit of being vegan; I can’t blame someone for choosing to live at the expense of an animal’s life rather than preserve that animal’s life and starve to death. As much as I dearly wish it were otherwise, nature evolved predation and prey; all life exists at the expense of other life.
To further complicate the issue, to be vegan also means to avoid animal-based clothing. Yet, product manufacturing, especially when it involves synthetic materials, can have a significant impact on the environment. In the big picture, is choosing a plastic shoe truly a better choice than a leather one?
But none of these objections really discredit veganism as a legitimate moral stance. That we have the “luxury” – let’s call it opportunity – to escape the cycle of predation is actually something to celebrate. We have, through our own ingenuity, given ourselves a moral choice other animal species don’t have.
This is where, in a brief detour, confusion should be dispelled over what it means to be omnivorous. The assumption is that as omnivores we MUST eat some of everything to get proper nutrition. Rather, to be omnivorous means that unlike carnivores or herbivores, our digestive system is capable of processing different types of food – a very useful survival trait. Yet our ability to survive on different foods doesn’t mean that any given food is necessarily the best choice. We clearly can live on junk food and all the trappings of the Western diet, but in the long-term the result will be any number of diseases and health conditions. Just as we can drink alcohol and rely on our livers for detoxification, we can eat all kinds of foods for short periods of time without a problem. Overdo the alcohol, however, and the liver fails; overdo animal products and processed foods, and the body fails.
Given that we can live long and, most importantly, healthy lives without eating animals and that we have the technological/logistical capability of growing fruits, vegetables and grains all year long, do we not have a moral obligation to use these capabilities as best we can? On the basis of our role as environmental stewards and our compassionate values, isn’t it our responsibility to minimize the suffering of all creatures, especially given the shockingly cruel inhumane conditions food animals are kept in? In other words, in choosing between compassion and cruelty, should we not choose compassion?
The Conscience of a (Baseline) Vegan
And yet for all that, even the Vegan Society allows for veganism “as far as is possible and practical,” vegans have a reputation for a kind of doctrinaire zealotry (see PETA). I see it all the time: the word vegan makes people nervous. This is why I’ve adopted the term “baseline vegan,” or (b)vegan; to acknowledge the broader moral context in which our environmental/dietary choices occur. A (b)vegan, then, is someone who uses vegan as a dietary/lifestyle baseline, a day-to-day guideline, but recognizes that it’s okay, perhaps even necessary, to deviate on occasion.
It may sound like being “vegan-when-convenient” – and certainly, I struggle with the fact that I haven’t been able to entirely give up sushi (although I have cut down to the point where it is a rare indulgence) – but the idea is that veganism doesn’t have to be an absolute, almost utopian, ideology. It can be a practical, sensible philosophy that acknowledges the reality of how things are. If a vegan is idealistic, a (b)vegan is practical. In the end, it isn’t necessarily immoral to choose to eat meat or wear animal products; but it is always moral to choose not to, whenever possible. And, as with all things having to do with ethics, it’s always a struggle to figure out the best course of action.
Frédérik invites you to discuss this week's column at his blog (frederik-sisa.blogspot.com).
