Vegan Practically

Last week I talked about what I called “meat-eaters’ fragility” as an obstacle to change. Today I want to say a bit about what to do with this fact about the world we live in. I don’t think it’s surprising that challenging the status quo in a way the involves an ethical argument gets people’s backs up. As humans, we tend to protect our own self-interest. This surely doesn’t come as news to anyone. We all do it. So the first thing I try to keep in mind is to do my best to maintain a sense of humility. I don’t know everything. I’m not always right. I also don’t like it when someone suggests I’m doing something ethically wrong. If ever I enter into a conversation about an ethical issue (whatever that may be), I try to stick to this mindset of openness and humility.

That said, all of us have some beliefs that we hold not just with conviction, but with a fair amount of confidence. My belief that there is something terribly morally wrong with the treatment of non-human animals on factory farms, and my belief that there is an ever-growing body of evidence that animal farming contributes to climate change and environmental degradation are two well-considered beliefs that I hold with a high degree of confidence. What that means to me is that I’m well-informed, not just grasping at straws to protect an unsupported commitment to ideology. No doubt there are other areas where I am less aware and less informed.

Indeed, quite a few people, not just vegans, think that factory farming is a horror show and want to be reminded about it as infrequently as possible. Where they disagree, if they have given it any thought at all (which is not the norm), is in what that means for their personal choices.

As Robin DiAngelo (2018) says in her discussion of white fragility, it raises feelings of being centred out, attacked, silenced, judged, shamed, accused, and/or insulted. That in turn causes people to have strong emotional reactions where they are angry, even outraged, upset, or scared. At a minimum it’s uncomfortable for everyone when a conversation starts to spin into high-intensity emotions like that.

If it was only a matter of dealing with histrionics and drama, that would be one thing. But this pattern of response functions to achieve a number of major obstacles to reasonable discussion, reflection, and social change. In the context of white fragility, DiAngelo suggests that it functions to:

• Maintain white solidarity
• Close off self-reflection
• Trivialize the reality of racism
• Silence the discussion
• Make white people the victims
• Hijack the conversation
• Protect a limited worldview
• Take race off the table
• Protect white privilege
• Focus on the messenger, not the message
• Rally more resources to white people

Taking meat-eaters’ fragility into account, therefore, we see similar reactions and similar outcomes, where it effectively functions to:

• Maintain solidarity among omnivores
• Close off self-reflection
• Trivialize the reality of animal suffering and harm to the planet
• Silence the discussion
• Make omnivores people the victims
• Hijack the conversation
• Protect a limited worldview
• Take reasons to reduce or eliminate the use of animal products off the table
• Protect meat-eaters’ privilege
• Focus on the messenger, not the message
• Rally more resources to omnivores, who already have a great deal of resources at their disposal.

It’s because it forecloses further discussion about what is really at stake — harms to countless animals and to the planet Earth — that we need to find a way through it, not around it. Real social change only happens when enough people feel sufficiently convinced that they are willing to take steps to change. DiAngelo says that in her years of facilitating anti-racism workshops, “the only way to give feedback without triggering white fragility is not to give it at all” (DiAngelo 2018).

I confess that my recognition of the phenomenon of meat-eaters’ fragility combined with my distaste for conflict and my discomfort with pissing people off mean that very frequently I choose not to give feedback. Instead, I have chosen to engage with the issues here, on this blog, where people can choose to read or choose not to read what I have to say.

Thus, for me, an effective way to navigate the minefield of fragility is to avoid confronting people who haven’t asked for my feedback. This is not to say that people in my life are unaware of my thinking on this, my reasons for being vegan, and my belief that there is something terribly wrong with continuing to support the factory farming of animals and the seafood industry.

In other words, my main strategy for navigating the fragility is to remember that there is a time and a place. In my experience, over time the people around do tend to ask me for my reasons. When they do, I start in general terms — “I am a vegan for ethical reasons having to do mainly with animal suffering and for environmental reasons concerning climate change and environmental degradation.” This either starts or ends further conversation. I am good at following social cues.

I take the win where I can get them. I have long advocated for more plant-based options at my workplace. There has been some slow change on that front. I attended an event on Monday that I have been attending for years and involves a catered lunch buffet. Recently, instead of having to find the caterers and tell them I’m here and wait for them to bring me a meal waiting from the kitchen, they have a table set up with vegan and gluten free options for anyone who might want to choose from those options. This is what I’m talking about, people! This is some progress. Of course, it would be even better if there were only cruelty-free options available at our lunches. Maybe one day, probably not in my lifetime. As I said to a friend yesterday who had a similar success at a catered lunch: “Progress, one complaint, one meal at a time.”

I thought, when I started this blog as an invitation to those who might be curious and even keen, but worried that it would be too hard, that I would find a tone that was kinder. But there is only so much tone-control you can do when the message you are delivering is that the default food options in our society contribute to vast suffering and mass atrocity of an immense scale and they’re destroying the only planet we have. My approach is to try to stick to the facts and not myself get caught up in the emotions. It’s not always easy to do. I think I am getting better at it.

So why do I attend to people’s fragility, tip-toeing around their feelings instead of speaking out at every opportunity? Because speaking out at every opportunity is not a strategy at all. It makes people shut down, bear down, and continue to do as they do without being willing to reflect on it.

In my work on collective responsibility I have long argued that my audience is people who care. I feel the same way here. I know what it is like because I too thought it would be “too hard” to give up animal products completely. I felt this way long after I felt convinced that it was the right thing to do. Eventually, I felt ready and I took the further step. I want to encourage people who might be in that place where they are open, maybe even trying. Getting all up in someone’s face is not going to win anyone over.

In the title of this post, I mention “not losing focus.” I take the long view. And to me, the long view requires some strategizing. And strategizing means finding ways to reach people. And reaching people means taking seriously where they’re at and the human tendency to get defensive and offended when we feel accused. I’m no different. How would I want someone to approach me? The answer, for me is, I would want someone to offer information, let me consider it, talk it through with me if I asked, and encourage me for making an effort.

I don’t have an exact formula for when and how to engage people in actual conversations about these things. And while I have had some conversations that have triggered that fragility, they are getting fewer and fewer. Of late, I have actually had many more that have not triggered meat eaters’ fragility.

I’m sure there are other great strategies for dealing with it while not losing focus. If you have something to suggest, please share it in the comments. I’m really interested in hearing how others venture into these discussions in ways that are productive and constructive.