Vegan Practically

It’s easy to get demoralized when you’re doing something that goes against what the majority of people do. Living a vegan lifestyle can be like that. I’ve experienced that sense of ineffectiveness lately. I decided that today would be a good day to (1) remind myself why I have chosen this path and (2) pay special attention to the arguments about making a difference.

To the first point, I adopted a vegan lifestyle back in 2011 after many years as a vegetarian. At the time, my main reasons for being vegetarian were about animal suffering in industrial (factory) farming. I believed (and still believe) it is wrong to support such widespread suffering by purchasing animal products. Since factory farming for eggs and dairy involve at least as much suffering as factory farming for meat, all of my reasons for being vegetarian were equally strong reasons for being vegan. Deep down I knew that there was no convincing reason to draw the line at products that involved killing when vast suffering is a feature of all industrialized animal agriculture. In 2011, I decided it was time to align my actions with what I knew to be true.

We have since seen arguments about the climate impact and environmental harm of animal agriculture rise in prominence, making a much larger number of people concerned about supporting this industry. More people want to reduce or even eliminate their use and consumption of animal products.

This then raises a further question: If I’m concerned about animal suffering, climate change, and environmental harm, do my choices make a difference? Given the vastness of the problem, with trillions of land and sea animals dying each year to feed humans, and countless more suffering to provide humans with dairy products and eggs, it is easy to wonder whether one person’s consumer choices are of any consequence whatsoever.

Some philosophers call this “the causal impotence problem” (David Killoren, “Causal Impotence and Veganism: Recent Developments and Possible Ways Forward,” The Routledge Handbook of Vegan Studies, editor Laura Wright, 2021, pp. 111-121). I’m citing Killoren here because I recently read his paper and I like what he has to say. There’s also a great discussion of something similar, about whether consumer choice has a collective impact, in Julia Nefsky’s “Consumer Choice and Collective Impact” (The Oxford Handbook of Food Ethics, Editors Barnhill, Budolfson, and Doggett, 2018, pp. 267-286).

The collective element is important here because such vast problems require collective solutions. One person alone cannot solve them.

Killoren identifies two main lines of response to the causal impotence problem: 1. argue that even if our choices don’t make a difference, choosing animal products could still be wrong, or 2. argue that our choices do indeed make a difference. I want to focus today on the second line of response because, though there may be compelling non-consequentialist reasons for not using and consuming animals, I myself (and many others) want to make a difference. I have said a number of times that veganism is not just about moral purity or keeping one’s hands clean. Indeed, given the complexities of this world, I agree with Gruen and Jones’ case in “Veganism as an Aspiration.” We can try and we will fall short. But still we try.

An argument that comes up a lot in the philosophical literature on making a difference is the Threshold Argument. According to the Threshold Argument, we can admit that not every purchase we might make at the supermarket makes a difference, but it makes sense to assume that producers respond to consumer demand or lack of demand. Killoren draws on an example from philosopher Shelley Kagan, who says: “There are, perhaps, 25 chickens in a given crate of chickens. So, the butcher looks to see when 25 chickens have been sold, so as to order 25 more. Here, then, it makes no difference to the butcher whether seven, 13, or 23 chicknes have ben sold. But when 25 have been sold this triggers the call to the chicken farm, and 25 more chickens are killed, and another 25 eggs are hatched to be raised and tortured” (Killoren, 117).

The upshot: “If you purchase a chicken from this butcher every day for a long enough period of time, you will on average trigger the birth, suffering, and killing of one chicken for every purchase” (117). Though any purchase of yours has a small chance of being the triggering purchase, each triggering purchase triggers a large increase in production that causes a lot of animal suffering (see Killoren, 117). As Killoren states, “on a long enough time scale, a consumer of meat can expect to cause the existence, suffering, and death of about as many animals as she consumes, and similarly for consumers of milk, eggs, and other animal products.”

What I like about this argument is that it addresses the apparent gap between consumer choice and animal suffering. It introduces causal connection, even if it’s in a more indirect way. Consumers might not be those inflicting the suffering and the death, but their purchases have a direct causal impact. This point goes a long way to responding to those who believe, as many do, that causal impact is a necessary of responsibility. More importantly, it helps to address the concern that our actions as consumers don’t make a difference.

In addition, I believe there is a compelling case to made for taking a collective view. Yes, as contributions to collective outcomes, our actions gain significance. Think of the power of acting together as opposed to acting alone. This requires a longer view, where we can be more ambitious in our aspirations. Thinking of our choices this way, as having a cumulative impact over time, together with the choices of others who have the same goals of addressing animal suffering and harm to the planet, we can aim higher–like for the elimination of agricultural practices that involve animal suffering, exploitation, and death, and for the elimination of farming practices that wreak havoc on our fragile environment.

These are worthwhile goals that require people mobilize in their commitment to shared outcomes and in doing their part to achieve those outcomes. When I’m feeling demoralized and ineffective, it helps for me to remind myself that my choices do, indeed, make a difference, both individually and as contributions to more ambitious, longer term efforts.