A friend with an occasionally sledgehammer-esque sense of humour told me the following joke.
“How can you tell if someone’s a vegetarian?”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“Oh, they’ll tell you. Trust me, they’ll definitely tell you.”
Accepting vegetarianism
My friend, if you hadn’t guessed, is not a vegetarian.
Nonetheless, I took no offence. In fact, this particular exchange came about after my own vegetarianism came up in conversation. I happened to explain my personal choice, which is something I call 98 per cent vegetarianism. Basically, I’m vegetarian at home, at work, with friends and with my family, and in situations I can control.
There are, however, a handful of rare, isolated instances where I have less say over my meal choices. For instance, suppose a client were to take me out to Vlado’s Steakhouse? Or an elderly grandparent put on a roast? Or I attended a long function and the only catering was meat-based canapés?
When I decided to go veggo almost six years ago I understood that there would be occasions comparable to the above. In these situations I would either have to: eat meat, or; decline to eat meat, and in doing so incur some social debt (amongst people, I might add, who are unlikely to change their outlook on meat consumption).
So I opted for the former.
To be clear, I’m not personally outraged by meat consumption. I have no objection to purchasing and preparing meat for someone else. Bacon still smells alluring. And the dietary choices of others are a non-issue to me. I do, however, believe that if I’m prepared to eat something, I also ought to be prepared to slaughter it myself.
I had expected resistance or at least some degree of ostracization when I made the switch. And yet, people were remarkably accepting.
In fact, I discovered two things: there’ve been astonishingly few occasions during which I’ve actually had to ‘choose’; and, I can recall just one incident where my vegetarianism was the subject of ridicule (and it was very light).
In short, the choices I’ve made have not caused me trouble.
Not at home with my non-vegetarian spouse. Not at work or social outings. Not with my traditionalist, meat-and-three-veg-inclined in-laws.
Vegetarian as personal choice
On those occasions when my stance did come up in discussion I always framed it as a purely personal choice. I emphasised how I believe that people ought to be free to eat what they wish, free of judgement, and that any person’s dietary choices should not affect another’s outlook. I suspect, though I have no empirical evidence to prove it, that framing it this way may have contributed to some people being more receptive to my views.
An example I like to use is what I call the 98 per cent rule. This is where “98 per cent vegetarian” comes from. It means that something that is effective 98 per cent of the time is, in my view, the equivalent of a 98 per cent pass. For me, that translates into almost always being able to do things the way I want to. The remaining 2 per cent ‘failure’ only occurs during situations I cannot control (like dinner at Grandma’s or catering at a funeral). If I were to register resistance during these rare occasions, the social cost would be disproportionately high. So I defer to smoother waters, knowing that, for the remaining 98 per cent of the time, tings are still how I want them to be.
Sometimes I also refer to a recycling metaphor. “If you believe in recycling,” I say, “and you can recycle 98 per cent of the time, would you consider yourself a failure if occasionally you threw out an aluminium can while you were out in public, instead of wandering around all day looking for a recycling bin?” Again, this is like the 98 per cent rule. Doing something almost all the time in this context is as good as doing it all the time.
I suspect my views would have met a stiffer response if I’d been adversarial and insistent. For instance, like almost all vegetarians and vegans that I know, I don’t share polarising, violent, shocking images of animal cruelty on social media. A handful of people I know do, however, and had I followed that path, I suspect my choices would have been less readily accepted.
Similarly, I don’t support public disruption that enrages the very people whose views the disruptors are trying to change. I understand why they do this (or to be precise, I comprehend why some people would feel compelled to get themselves arrested to make a political point). But I don’t agree with it, though not for quite the reasons you may think.
Not because I am unconcerned with animal cruelty.
Not because I refute the environmental problems associated with industrial-scale farming.
Not because of ideological disdain.
But because, fundamentally, being adversarial with one’s own views is unlikely to change the views of another.
Shouting an opinion at someone is extremely unlikely to make the recipient sympathise, let alone accept that point of view.
Which means it’s a crap way to try and change someone’s mindset.
To change someone’s view, they first need to be receptive. And that’s not going to happen if they are the object of anger.
Far better, then, to take a moderate approach. One that leads by example. One that shows the virtues and benefits of certain life choices.
I never became vegetarian with the express intention of changing someone’s view. But I’m glad my choices were accepted. Not being adversarial, I suspect, helped. And if someone sees my example and decides to follow, not because they were made to, but because it was their choice, then maybe that’s a good thing.
But I’ve never known someone to go off meat simply because they got shouted at.
Main pic: Anna Pelzer .