Why are you not vegan? That’s the question Professor Jean Kazez, who teached an animal rights course at Southern Methodist University, put to 88 of her non-vegan students and philosopher colleagues. A series of choices were provided as answers, as they were to a follow-up question about why students did not feel “obligated to abstain from animal products.” The option of “other” was made available as well, eliciting several revealing remarks. Professor Kazez’s reason for conducting the survey was essentially personal. She wrote, “I am a vegetarian , but not a vegan, and have a longstanding puzzlement about why I cannot make myself go further.” The results were quite interesting.
Tellingly, 65.9 believed that they should be vegan. Reasons students chose for acting against their own belief were ” I find it too difficult to limit what I eat, so I am an omnivore” (25 percent) and ”I find it too difficult and so I am just a part-time vegan or vegetarian or part-time vegetarian” (40.9 percent). It’s not entirely clear to me how these answers differ, but the real issue is the sentiment they share: eating as a vegan is, logistically speaking, too difficult an endeavor.
I find that vegans are overly quick to dismiss this concern. Conditioned as we are to the imperatives of our alternative choices, we forget that the world is not a vegan friendly place. In an omnivorous commercial culture most of us are quietly acculturated to take food choices for granted. Something, no matter where you are, will always be available, always be on hand to satisfy your desire, no matter how specialized or precious. For better or worse, this assumption is generally accurate. The modern commercial food supply might be easy to condemn but, in its availability and diversity, it’s a wonder to behold (especially when considered in historical perspective). When you go vegan, this security, this availability and diversity, shrivels. Suddenly, you have to do something you’ve never done before: plan ahead. Or even be prepared to do the unthinkable: forgo a meal or two.
The real conundrum is that the solution to this “too difficult” problem is stuck in neutral. On the one hand, there’s the commercial option of providing more vegan options, ideally to the point where vegan options are as prevalent as non-vegan options. Many entrepreneurs are nobly venturing into this territory. But the hard economic reality is that they are taking a risk, one that hinges on demand catching up with the supply they’re providing. I think they’ll be rewarded handsomely in time, but the fact remains that the ultimate incentive to expand vegan options with confidence – hordes of vegans demanding tofu in the heartland – is not as secure as we might hope. On the other hand, that 65.9 percent figure does, however mildly , suggest that the demand is certainly out there. Incipient vegans are everywhere; they only lack the means of expression. For all we know, millions of consumers might be wandering the aisles of Kroger or A&P or Publix thinking “I wish I could be vegan but everything in this place is non-vegan.” For all we know. Thus, change moves glacially.
Fortunately, marketers are some of the savviest people out there. If anyone can sniff out mainstream demand before it becomes manifest, they can. And as far as the work of the everyday vegan advocate goes, the lesson here is clear: any and all efforts to get the word “vegan” or “plant-based diet” into the vague but powerful ether known as commercial culture will play a role in ultimately channeling more interest, and eventually more money, into the options that will make it possible for the 65.9 percent to put their ideals into action.
