So lately I've been thinking a lot about what keeps me Vegan. Part of this has included thinking about societal perceptions of animal rights advocates and where they stem from. As any compassionate consumer knows, it's extremely complicated, as never is there a central position from which to understand it. We call ourselves Vegan or Vegetarian or ethical eaters, but even as we do so, we are aware that we are just humans making choices. We are humans who see the violence and suffering that is inextricably connected to the meals we watch our fellow humans eat every day. Each of us has a different relationship with "the cause," and is susceptible to a different degree to the pressures of the hegemony (or hegemonies) that enable and enforce the perpetuation of what among some people I call the meat industry, and among others mass murder. All humans, in all endeavours, must negotiate and renegotiate some degree of balance, unique to any given situation, between factors too numerous to notice and consider--whether we recognise it or not. And when we consider that even what we refer to as factors are not the discreet, finite things their handle implies, things get even more complicated.
So what makes me a Vegan? The word is at once a descriptor of an overarching dietary schema, a name for a strict set of "rules" and a political tool, among other things. In some mays, it might be more accurate to say "I am not really a vegan, I am a human who does his best to avoid participating in the practices of Meat production." But Vegan is more than a descriptor. I am a Vegan not simply because I don't like meat (or Meat) but because I want to actively oppose its existence as food: by reminding people there are those who think otherwise; by implicitly stating my kinship with these other like-minded people; and by calling on the knowledge, that I believe most have-- that killing and torture are wrong, that there are accessible and realistic alternatives -- that bobs just under the surface of a great many of my interactions with omnivores.
When I first "went Vegetarian," I insisted on downplaying the political and moral nature of my choice. "It's a personal choice for me," I remember saying on many occasions, and even colluded in the chiding of "self-righteous" Vegetarians. I have since come to see this as a reaction against the defensiveness that Meat-consumers often (and Veg*ns know I mean very often) display in the face of the inevitable moral challenge our choices imply. I was afarid of not being liked, of being called self-righteous, of being too individualistic. I wanted, initially, to distance myself from the perceptions of Vegetarians that I shared with those whose judgement I feared. I was afraid to commit myself to my own deeply held beliefs.
And there lies the understanding I wish to share today: I was afraid of committing my self. The self is important to all of us, as I think it should be to some degree. I think the great majority of our actions and beliefs exist within us both for the pleasure or necessity we perceive as the cause of their existence and for the role they play in defining our individual selves, for ourselves and for others. I have seen underneath and in between the words of friends and strangers that reaching, those clinging attempts to define themselves--as I have seen them reflecting on my own thoughts, words and actions. Compassionate consumption is far from immune to this: perhaps because it is situated as an oppositional identity, Veg*nism is especially vulnerable to definition. A Vegetarian or a Vegan has an awareness of how their choices are perceived, and thus cannot help but struggle to define themselves against a backdrop of pre-existing conceptions of what they are, be that struggle conscious or unconscious.
For some of us, it is easier than it is for others. We all know ex-Vegetarians, or people who are interested in aligning their consumption choices with their morals, but have not. I'm not suggesting that these people "failed," or are failing, but I think what this can help to show us is that there is a certain separation that often exists between our morals (what we want to truly believe in, to different degrees and in different situations, which often come as pre-existing packages) and our values (what we do believe in, what presently governs our reactions and stances to and against things, despite the little differences about us in different settings). I know people who despise oppression, and are sharp enough to spot it hidden under the most elaborate disguises, until you bring up Meat. I know people who will go to great lengths to decrease their "carbon footprint," short of addressing their collusion with the grossly inefficient, deforesting and pollution creating meat industries. I know people who get outraged at the idea of veal, yet can't imagine life without fancy cheeses. From my experience, when you challenge someone's identity (as a person committed to ending oppression, as an environmentalist, as a connoisseur or chef of "fine" foods, as a cynic who won't brook the idea of making positive change) critical thinking often slips out for a break, and unconscious defensiveness fills in the gap.
We can often see how wrong something is, or we can come to the conclusion through logic, or simply believe what we hear, but until we feel what we know, we cannot be our choices in anything but a functional sense. Many of us know Veg*ns who seem much more interested in their image as a Vegetarian or Vegan than the animals their cause is supposedly concerned with. Conversely, we may know people who seem as though their values align them with Veg*nism, but don't want to "put themselves in a box." Both of these situations describe allies, and I don't mean to criticise people, especially on anything like a personal level. But thinking about this lately has led me to believe that there is a very important key to "success" as a long term advocate of animals. If we haven't already--yet we "know" it's the right thing to do--we need to foster a deep-seated, internalised commitment to ending the suffering of animals at the hands of humans, on an individual level with our selves.
I think that the obviousness of this statement is what makes it so difficult to accomplish. Things that we hear often enough, we often don't think about as deeply as the things that we come up with on our own (there's that self again!). Every ex-Vegetarian hurts our collective cause, as does every flaky Vegetarian. I'm not trying to get up in anyone's grill, and I'm trying (and in my opinion, succeeding) to not judge anyone as a whole person, but I think I'm describing some of the necessary background work that is so seldom discussed. So, do our non-human friends a favour, and take a hard look at your own role in their oppression, and how you can negotiate it within yourself. Do it: you can.
