The latest entry over at Gary Francione’s blog provides a clear and thoughtful argument about why veganism matters in the context of abolitionism and the animal rights movement. In making his argument, he discusses why vegetarianism isn’t enough, why we need to promote veganism as a fundamental aspect of abolitionism, and why welfarism isn’t progress.
In closing his piece, he writes:
In sum, just as someone who says that human slavery is wrong but who continues to own slaves is not really an abolitionist with respect to human slavery, someone who says that animal slavery is wrong but who does not embrace veganism as a way of life is not really an abolitionist with respect to animal slavery. Let those of us who accept the abolitionist approach be clear and unequivocal and promote veganism in our words and our actions.
All we can say is fuck yeah.
Update, 29 December: Francione responds here to some issues raised by readers around questions of animals as property and using rape as an analogy.
Sometimes, we get some entertaining email here at Vegan Freak HQ. Here’s one we got today, with details intact and the text completely unedited. Why spare the guilty?
I think it speaks for itself, though perhaps Matt would like to hear from some more pathetic, liberal vegans. Feel free to drop him a line.
Name: matt stojkovic
Email:
Your message:: My brother-in-law is a freak. I mean, I vegan. He makes me laugh with his sanctimonious holier-than-thou approach to food. Thank Gog for you freaks, more steak for me. Whenever I need a good laugh, I think of you pathetic, liberal vegans.
I’ve been doing some background research on la Nueva canción movement in Latin America for one of my classes, and I came across a quote that I really liked from Chilean poet, musician, and activist Victor Jara, thanks to wikipedia. He was asked what the word Love meant to him, and he responded:
Love of my home, my wife and my children.
Love for the earth that helps me live
Love for the education and of work.
Love of others who work for the common good.
Love of justice as the instrument that provides equilibrium for human dignity.
Love of peace in order to enjoy one’s life.
Love of freedom, but not the freedom acquired at the expense of other’s freedom, but rather the freedom of all.
Love of freedom to live and exist, for the existence of my children, in my home, in my town, my city, among neighboring people.
Love for freedom in the environment in which we are required to forge our destiny.
Love of freedom without yokes: neither ours nor foreign.
He said these lines four days before the September 11 (1973) coup in Chile, and eight days before he was tortured and murdered by Pinochet’s goons. I wanted to share these lines for two reasons. First, I thought it was fitting on the day of Pinochet’s death to celebrate the life of one of his victims. Second, these lines remind us what liberation really means – for everyone.
Ryan’s recent (and excellent) entry over at vegblog about how veganism is viewed as extreme nicely turns the tables on carnism by showing that our cultural fascination with foods and products of death is literally the most extreme — and that veganism is, instead, an affirmation of compassion and of a thoughtful life well-lived.
I like what Ryan does in this essay. By turning the tables so eloquently, he’ll get people to think, and perhaps introduce some of that valuable cognitive dissonance that gets people to consider going vegan in the first place. For that reason alone, you should bookmark this one and send it to those folks who don’t “get” your veganism.
But also, Ryan’s essay comes at an interesting time for me. As those of you who subscribe to our podcast know, I recently had to defend a student whose veganism was deeply misunderstood by a study-abroad program director as an extreme choice that should be abandoned when entering another culture. The director’s assumption that veganism was “extreme” was clearly driven by his not understanding why people go vegan. To him, it was just a simple personal choice (and probably not even a valid one in his book). To many of us who are ethical vegans — and to this student — it is a deeply personal characteristic that partly defines who we are. I’m not a religious person, but my dedication not to live animal exploitation in my daily life is probably at least as much a part of my moral makeup as is the religious outlook of the convert. This isn’t to say that I’m brainwashed, just that my perception has shifted, and now that it’s shifted, I’m not sure it’ll go back. Some things you just can’t “un-know.”
In the end with some advice from Gary Francione and a quick email from me on her behalf explaining what veganism is about, the situation with the student resolved itself gracefully. But I can’t help but imagine that had people understood the “extremism” of our predatory culture, they might have better understood the “extremism” of this student’s veganism. Ryan’s essay paves the way for this kind of understanding, and that’s a valuable thing.
p.s. the comments are worth reading too.
I offer two brief points in response to Dunayer’s point-by-point to me. I should say upfront that I’ll offer only two brief points, mostly because — given Dunayer’s response — I don’t really see any productive end in a continued discourse. My points remain, and I think they stand on their own merit. Dunayer seems to think this debate revolves around a difference of opinion; on the contrary, the debate as I cast it revolves around what looks to me like poor scholarly practices, or at the very least, a heavy dose of bad faith towards the theorists with which one disagrees, or from which one is trying to distance oneself for whatever reason (presumably, in this case, to colonize a branch of theory without the requisite innovation). At the very least Dunayer does a selective reading of Francione. Were this kind of reading turned in to me as a peer reviewer for a scholarly book or journal — work which I do fairly often — I’d critique it in exactly the same way.
But that said, I’ll offer my two points and step out.
1. Dunayer seems confused about what an apologetic is, and she seems to insist that it requires apology. Of course, one form of an apologetic is to express regret; the sense in which I use it, however, comes from the scholarly fields of philosophy and theology, and is meant to imply an impassioned defense of a theory — which, presumably, is what Dunayer is at least trying to engage in. Even the cheap online dictionary that comes with Mac OS X recognizes this usage with the following definition:
“of the nature of a formal defense or justification of something such as a theory or religious doctrine.”
2. Dunayer concludes her piece with this sentence:
“In my view, you’re simply denying the existence of a legitimate abolitionist theory different from Francione’s.”
I’m curious about this “legitimate abolitionist theory” and I’d like to know where I could read it. I ask only because what I’ve read in Speciesism is very much like what Francione writes, with some added weak criticism. Advancing criticism of an existing author does not make a theoretical frame; criticism can be the foundation of a theoretical frame, a first step, but it is never complete without advancing one’s own developments. I know from her arguments that Dunayer thinks she is doing this, but the “advancements” in Speciesism seem too minor and too much like Francione to count as original in my mind. In sum, if such a “legitimate abolitionist theory” exists as a fully developed theoretical frame, I’d love to see it, cite it, and work with it in dialogue in my own work.
What is a welfarist? What is an abolitionist? And how do we know the difference?
These questions sit at the center of a recent apologetic by Joan Dunayer forthcoming in the Journal of Animal Law. Her JAL article is intended to counter a nearly 30,000 word critique of her book Speciesism written by Jeff Perz. Perz’s critique – published in an abridged version in JAL – hinges on a basic theme in which Dunayer is alleged to have misappropriated the ideas of Gary Francione throughout her work. Dunayer defends herself against such charges mostly by rehashing her arguments and showing where her ideas allegedly differ from Francione’s. In this exercise, Dunayer claims that the incrementalist abolitionism articulated in Francione’s 1996 book Rain Without Thunder is not actually abolitionist, and is, instead, sliding into a kind of welfarism. This approach, I shall show, is flawed.
The stance that Dunayer takes on Francione’s alleged welfarism is, at best, misguided, and at worst outright mischaracterization. Over the past several decades, Gary Francione has articulated a powerful vision for abolitionism that serves as a clarion call for activists, academics, and others interested in promoting the interests of animals. In short, Francione provides what I see as the clearest, most articulate, and most powerful defense and prefiguration of abolitionist incrementalism anywhere. In his work, Francione repeatedly calls for an end to the instrumental use of animals, which he sees rooted in their condition as the property of another. To truly abolish animal exploitation, Francione argues that we must abolish animals as property, and instead, respect their interests as beings. Francione further stresses that veganism and abolitionist education should be the cornerstones of any abolitionist movement. These conclusions stand in sharp contrast to the kinds of welfarism being promoted in conventional animal rights organizations. Indeed, how one could read Francione as anything but an abolitionist is baffling.
Nevertheless, Dunayer manages to accuse Francione of promoting measures that slide into welfarism in her self-defense in JAL. One part of the contention for Dunayer comes over whether or not particular prohibitions or bans are abolitionist. This is in response to a section of Rain Without Thunder in which Francione lays out a series of conjunctive criteria for deciding whether or not particular regulatory bans or prohibitions are abolitionist. It is important to note that Francione prefaces his criteria with the notion that there are good reasons not to bother at all with legislation and regulation and that advocates should instead pursue abolitionist education, boycotts, protests, and other similar kinds of advocacy. He argues that any legislative campaign needs to be coupled with an educational campaign. The criteria at the end of Rain are intended to guide an incremental abolitionism should activists wish to pursue legislative or regulatory bans. The criteria are not intended to promote welfarism; instead, they’re intended to serve as guideposts for promoting the interests of animals as beings with inherent value for themselves – not as instrumental property for another. A full rehashing of Francione’s criteria is beyond the scope of this piece; anyone interested should read Rain Without Thunder.
The point of contention for Dunayer – in her apologetic in JAL and in Speciesism – comes over an example that Francione uses in discussing his criteria for abolitionist prohibitions. In making his point, Francione argues that a potential ban on battery cages such that hens have complete freedom of movement – provided his other criteria for abolitionism are met – might constitute an abolitionist prohibition. Such a prohibition would still see hens exploited as property, but could be viewed also as incrementally abolitionist because the prohibition recognizes a real interest of the animal were she no longer regarded as property. Also, such a ban is constitutive of the institution of exploitation. In other words, the prohibition is hitting directly at the heart of the exploitative activity. Moreover, the ban that Francione discusses would necessarily need to go beyond a merely cage-free situation; instead, as he points out in Rain, it would need to recognize the complete freedom of movement of hens. Such a ban could also be considered incrementally abolitionist because the prohibition recognizes a real interest of the animal were it no longer regarded as property.
In her reading of Francione, Dunayer sees this as the promotion of welfarism. For Dunayer, abolitionism must promote the absolute and total removal of animals from an exploitative industry or situation. For her, a ban on batter cages is not abolitionist, because it represents an alternate form of exploitation – one in which hens (as property) are forced to produce eggs, but with more freedom. In making this claim in her defense against Perz, Dunayer argues that Francione “collapses into ‘welfarism’” by arguing that a change in exploitation can be considered to be abolitionist. An abolitionist ban “prevents or halts, rather than mitigates, abuse.”
The problem with what Dunayer argues here contra Francione is that it ignores the fundamental insights of Rain Without Thunder. To view Francione as a welfarist requires intense mental gymnastics. Indeed, Dunayer’s elision of Francione’s argument with the tenets of welfarism is problematic precisely because it fails to adequately consider the criteria that Francione himself advocates in understanding abolitionist prohibitions. For Francione, hens free of a battery cage because of a prohibition but still in a condition of exploitation is not in any way a favorable end state. Francione does not even really advocate pursuing battery-cage bans; instead, he uses this as an example to think through his criteria. In the thought exercise that Francione is doing in Rain, such a prohibition can be viewed as an incremental step that also has the effect of banning a particular practice at the root of a system of exploitation while simultaneously forcing the farmer – a property holder – to recognize that hens have an inherent value beyond merely being property. In the hypothetical ban that Francione discusses, the farmer would have to respect the ban whether or not it was cost-effective and profitable for the production of eggs. Hens would still be in an exploitative system, but the abolitionist incrementalism comes through the fact that a substantial piece of this exploitative industry has been defeated, with potential impacts later for other animals. And of course, Francione would only advocate that abolitionists pursue such a ban were it possible that such a ban could meet all of the criteria he lays out in Rain. Francione’s example is no different from one that Dunayer herself uses. She argues that a prohibition on the use of a leghold trap is an abolitionist prohibition. But such a ban would still leave animals as property subject to human exploitation by means other than a leghold trap.
Interestingly, Francione anticipates a critique like Dunayer’s by arguing that even though the egg farmer may substitute another form of confinement for the battery cage, the animal rights activist cannot be held responsible for the substitution unless they’ve encouraged it, which Francione explicitly argues that they should not do. The point of this is to argue that a ban on caging is effective if it has been in the direction of eradicating the property status of animals, and in recognizing that animals have an interest based on their inherent value. The point of the criteria and of the hypothetical that Francione sets up is not merely to argue for cage-free hens; instead, it is intended to show how activists might choose to promote incremental steps that erode the property status of animals and the institution of exploitation. This is rather contrary to the notion that Dunayer puts forth by arguing that the ban “rests on the premise of continued exploitation.”
Finally – and perhaps, most importantly — what Dunayer misses in her selective reading of Francione is that he views any campaigns for legislative or regulatory bans as deeply flawed. He argues throughout his work that the interest of animal activists should be in abolishing, not regulating animal exploitation. In the JAL piece, Dunayer clearly wants to distinguish her work from Francione’s as her unique contribution to abolitionist theory, but the process of establishing this difference has thus far focused on straw-men constructed through a misinterpretation of Francione’s overall theoretical frame. Dunayer takes a similar tack her book Speciesism in critiquing Francione for using speciesist language in his work. By claiming that Francione reifies a speciesist mentality through euphemistic language, we again see a misreading of Francione that fails to recognize his actual arguments. It is an absurdity to charge Francione with speciesism for using the terms “animal agriculture, fish farms, [and] game ranches.” It is abundantly clear that Francione disproves of such operations given the overall argument in his work. Had he substituted the Dunayer-approved language for such activities, would anyone have known what he was writing about?
In the end, it is remarkably dispiriting to see an author using tactics that – regardless of intent – have the effect of distorting and misrepresenting the innovative and powerful work of another. Over the last several decades, Gary Francione has provided the animal rights movement with vital theory combined with a powerful prescriptive praxis based on abolitionism. By building her abolitionist theory on what is clearly either a misrepresentation or misunderstanding of Francione, Dunayer furthers neither the cause of abolitionism nor the theoretical or practical utility of her own work.
p.s. Lest anyone thinks I’m trying to be anonymous, this is who I am. I have nothing to hide.
Recommended from various quarters based on a discussion on our last podcast, here’s some video of Neil Gaiman reading his short story Babycakes which you should not miss.
After reading some of the comments on the entry about Peter Singer, I’m amused. Some wish to accuse me of vegan policing, of beating people into dietary submission, and of being a vegan-nazi*. As my writing has argued in the past, I’m not here to beat anyone into dietary submission, or to march omnivores or ovo-lacto vegetarians off to death camps for their poor choices.
In light of the comments, I wish to make two points:
1. Peter Singer is oft cited as one of the “fathers” of the modern animal rights movement. He has written about speciesism (in Animal Liberation) but has somehow lately come around to the idea that one can be a compassionate or conscientious omnivore, an idea which is, on its face, patently absurd, because one cannot be “conscientious” in making a dietary choice that necessarily deprives another being of its freedom and right to live. Gary Francione played this out brilliantly on the last podcast over at vegan freak radio. In short, are we worshiping Singer just because of who he is and the weight he throws around in the movement, or are we following him because of his logic and argumentation?
2. Related to point #1, if you’re an ethical vegan, your choice not to consume animal products is an ethical stance. Like any other ethical stance, it should be consistent, regardless of convenience (and really, being a vegan is not that inconvenient). The way to fight speciesism is not to be a part of it in your day-to-day life, and the quickest route to this is veganism. Thus, why participate in speciesism for convenience? Most of us who are antiracist wouldn’t participate in racism for convenience. Can you imagine the absurdity of an antiracist who claimed to care about racism, but on occasion told racist jokes around his friends just to fit in? Singer proposes just such an absurdity in his promotion of consuming animal products out of convenience.
Regardless, I can’t get why vegans would want to consume animal products at all—personally, they sicken me even to think about, given the exploitation involved. I also can’t even remotely understand why it would be controversial to call someone—a public figure who supposedly supports animal rights—on their promotion of non-veganism. If it is controversial to suggest that people who claim to be vegan shouldn’t eat animal products, this movement is way more fucked up than I ever thought it was.
I always like to read this poem.
Peter Singer is just too lazy to be vegan…
Q: How flexible are you? In The Way We Eat you describe, what was it—the “Paris indulgence”?
A: Ah, yes, the “Paris exception.” I’m probably more flexible than that, in that it doesn’t have to be Paris. But also less flexible, because that guy was prepared to eat meat when in a gourmet restaurant in Paris. I’m not going to do that—I can’t imagine enjoying it, anyway. When I’m shopping for myself, it will be vegan. But when I’m traveling and it’s hard to get vegan food in some places or whatever, I’ll be vegetarian. I won’t eat eggs if they’re not free-range, but if they’re free-range, I will. I won’t order a dish that is full of cheese, but I won’t worry about, say, whether an Indian vegetable curry was cooked with ghee.
(From Satya October 2006 )
Veganism has to be the moral baseline of our movement. It is living abolition in your daily life. If he’s too lazy to do that, I understand now why he’s so in favor of “humane” meat.

Posted by Bob Torres 
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