Vegan Practically

Something to chew on (doesn’t taste like cardboard)


Grey tabby with clear green eyes, looking into the distance, relaxed on a soft blanket against a dark background. Photo by Tracy Isaacs

Engage or chill?

Considering I’m a philosopher who has essentially been trained to argue, you might think my answer to “when to engage?” is “whenever the opportunity arises.” But that is not my approach at all. I have limited time and energy. I do not engage when it is hopeless. And there is a certain baiting approach, where someone has already set the rules of engagement up as mean-spirited or dismissive, that just makes me sigh and move on.

Such was the case earlier this week when a friend sent me screenshots of some slams on X (a platform l left shortly after it became X) about one of my early posts, which I quite like, “Have you tried vegan cheese lately?” My friend said they thought I might be interested and assured me that said potential interlocutor was reasonable and smart.

I respect my friend’s judgment enough to believe that to be the case. It’s possible that my friend’s friend was even trying to be funny. Maybe I lack the fuller context, perhaps of a social media personality whose audience expects biting social commentary at whatever fringe group’s expense, that would have made the reason for these tweets even make sense. Regardless, the series of comments did not have a lot of promise for fun or meaningful engagement. And it gave me an opportunity to reflect on my practice when it comes to engaging or stepping back.

The author of the tweets came across as someone who has already decided that vegan cheese is awful (or at least that it lacks all the desired nuances that a real connoisseur of cheese seeks) and who feels satisfied that “but I love cheese!” and “its main purpose is pleasure” are full arguments for supporting the horror show that is the dairy industry. I find this approach all-too-common, unoriginal, and tiresome. It’s the most frequent “argument” cited for not contemplating that there might be something wrong with supporting factory farming, which accounts for 99% of the animal products consumed globally. But it’s not an argument at all because it ignores the reasons that might weigh against prioritizing what we like over the harms of what we like. Mink coats are soft and luxurious too, but that doesn’t justify supporting a market for them.

It’s really a sad reminder of how remarkably easy it is to dismiss vegans as annoying buzz-killers of life’s simple pleasures, thereby setting aside any urgent reasons for seriously reducing or eliminating animal products (captured in a passing comment about “political reasons”) on account of mere taste.

This is not a demographic I engage with much because there seems little point. Despite being a philosopher, I don’t get great satisfaction out of argument for its own sake anymore. I used to relish in, and indeed was trained in, producing zingers and scoring points. But my main reason for the cheese post was not to convince anyone that vegan cheese is in all ways equivalent to “real cheese.”

It was the same reason I write all of my posts about vegan foods, recipes, and resources: in the hope of inspiring some curiosity in those who might care about harm to animals and the environment enough to seek ways of minimizing their contributions to it. Vegan cheese has a history of being awful, and it has indeed come along way. The very best blue cheese I have ever had, vegan or not, was actually vegan from a little place now called Main & Co. in Glencoe, Ontario. They use the culture Penicillium Roqueforti to make it and it has all the sharpness and texture of roquefort while being cruelty-free. That strikes me as a huge win for someone who cares, misses cheese, but doesn’t miss it enough to want to support cruelty to animals and harm to the climate.

I just got back from giving my paper on meat-eating as ideology and meat-eaters’ fragility for the first time to a live audience. To my great relief, the paper went over well and didn’t inspire even a hint of fragility in the Q&A. I skipped the final section, on practical strategies and guidelines that are not likely to inspire fragility. Since fragility is an obstacle that makes people dig in their heels, taking it seriously and finding ways not to trigger it is strategically important. Among my suggestions:

  • Be aware of the right time and place (pro tip: not X and its ilk)
  • Try to find ways of promoting curiosity (I should have added, “and not contempt”). Clearly it’s not always possible to predict, but my favourite is encouraging vegan potlucks. Even for people who can’t imagine life without “real” cheese or bacon, one time-limited food event where they don’t eat animal products might have enough of an air of novelty that they can tolerate it for a couple of hours and perhaps not even feel deprived. (here I agree with the cheese-lover above that excellent food that just happens to be vegan is the way to go)
  • Engage in a less personal way. For me, it is through this blog, where I offer my thoughts on what’s at stake without forcing anyone to read it and without myself being forced to respond. Since some people are interested but don’t know where to start, I also offer links to resources. Yes, someone who is more activist might think that what I do here is not enough. But I have met lots of people who appreciate the leads and have been inspired to give some of them a try. Overall, the blog spells out my perspective, offers arguments in support of it, and provides some suggestions for the curious. I’m good with that.

As tempting as it is to get in there and argue whenever the opportunity arises, there are lots of times when it makes no sense to do that. I don’t need to get into the muck — the blog content is quite challenging enough to grapple with on its own.

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