Nearveganism
Ethical Consumption in a Non-Ideal World
Introduction
Every year, tens of billions of land animals are raised and slaughtered for human consumption. The overwhelming majority of these animals spend their lives in intensive confinement systems that impose upon them severe and chronic forms of suffering. Chickens are crowded into warehouses by the tens of thousands, pigs are confined to gestation crates in which they can scarcely turn around, and calves raised for veal spend much of their short lives in extreme restriction. Whatever disagreements remain about the moral status of nonhuman animals, it is difficult to deny that factory farming inflicts suffering on an immense — almost incomprehensible — scale.
For this reason, many philosophers and animal advocates have concluded that we ought not consume animal products. Some focus on the immense suffering caused by modern animal agriculture (Singer 2009; Norwood and Lusk 2011). Others argue that animals possess rights that prohibit treating them merely as resources for human use (Regan 1983). Still others arrive at similar practical conclusions from contractualist, virtue-ethical, Kantian, care-ethical, or natural law perspectives (e.g., Rowlands 2002; Korsgaard 2018; Nussbaum 2006; Hursthouse 2006; Camosy 2013). Despite important theoretical differences, these frameworks converge on a common practical judgment: we ordinarily ought not support institutions that inflict such suffering and exploitation.
Yet an important question receives comparatively little attention. Assuming that, under ordinary circumstances, veganism represents the moral ideal, how should that ideal shape ethical consumption in a world in which almost no one fully lives up to it? More specifically, should ethical consumption be understood as an all-or-nothing matter, with strict veganism on one side and everything else on the other? Or can patterns of consumption approximate the vegan ideal to morally significant degrees?
Practically speaking, this question is important to consider because the overwhelming majority of people are not vegan and are unlikely to become so in the immediate future. Despite decades of advocacy, strict vegetarianism and veganism remain minority practices in most developed countries, even as concern for animal welfare has increased substantially (Gallup 2018; Ipsos 2023). If our overriding aim is to reduce the suffering endured by animals, then identifying the most effective way to move society toward the vegan ideal is a question of considerable practical importance.
Contemporary discussions of ethical consumption have largely answered this question in one of two ways. At one end of the spectrum lies an abolitionist approach that treats strict veganism as the only morally meaningful pattern of consumption. At the other lies reducetarianism, which rejects this binary picture by encouraging any reduction in the consumption of animal products, however modest (Kateman 2017). Both approaches, I believe, capture an important insight — yet both rest upon an overly simplistic conception of ethical consumption.
My central claim in this essay is that patterns of consumption can approximate the vegan ideal to morally significant degrees. Under ordinary circumstances, strict veganism represents the moral ideal, but it does not follow that everything short of perfect veganism belongs in a single undifferentiated moral category. Nor does it follow that every reduction in animal product consumption represents the same kind of moral progress. Between these positions lies a distinct normative category characterized by substantial approximation to the vegan ideal. I call this position nearveganism.
I begin by presenting what I take to be the basic case for veganism before distinguishing the moral ideal from the question of how ethical consumption should be understood under non-ideal conditions. I then consider two influential approaches to contemporary vegan advocacy, argue that both rest upon an overly simplistic conception of ethical consumption, and defend nearveganism as a more attractive alternative. I conclude by considering some objections and reflecting on its implications for animal advocacy.
1. The Basic Case for Veganism
The argument developed in this essay assumes that veganism represents, under ordinary circumstances, the morally ideal pattern of consumption. I do not defend that conclusion here. Rather, I ask how that ideal ought to shape our understanding of ethical consumption in a world in which almost no one fully lives up to it.
Fortunately, that question can largely be separated from disputes in normative ethical theory. Utilitarians, rights theorists, contractualists, virtue ethicists, Kantians, care ethicists, natural law theorists, and others have defended veganism on importantly different grounds (Singer 2009; Regan 1983; Rowlands 2002; Nussbaum 2006; Donovan and Adams 2007; Camosy 2013; Korsgaard 2018). Although they disagree about why factory farming is wrong, they converge on the practical conclusion that individuals ordinarily ought not support it through their consumption choices.
The argument presupposed throughout this essay can be stated as follows:
1. It is wrong to inflict extreme suffering and death on sentient beings merely for the sake of comparatively trivial goods.
2. Factory farming inflicts extreme suffering and death on sentient beings primarily for the sake of comparatively trivial goods, most notably human gustatory pleasure and convenience.
Therefore,
3. Factory farming is morally wrong.
4. One ordinarily has strong moral reason not knowingly to make oneself complicit in a morally wrongful practice when one can reasonably avoid doing so.
5. Knowingly purchasing factory-farmed animal products ordinarily makes one complicit in factory farming.
Therefore,
6. One ordinarily has strong moral reason not knowingly to purchase factory-farmed animal products.
Each of these premises has, of course, been disputed (by my lights, quite fruitlessly), but the question I wish to address arises only after the basic case for veganism has been granted. Suppose veganism really is, under normal conditions, the moral ideal. How should that ideal shape ethical consumption in a world in which almost no one fully lives up to it? More specifically, what conception of ethical consumption is most likely to move society toward that ideal?
2. From Moral Ideal to Ethical Consumption
It is tempting to suppose that once we have identified the morally ideal pattern of consumption, our practical task is simply to urge everyone to adopt it. Indeed, much contemporary vegan advocacy proceeds on precisely this assumption. Veganism is presented as the only morally acceptable pattern of consumption, while anything short of complete abstention from animal products is often treated as morally insignificant or even as a kind of failure.
There is an understandable rationale for this approach. If consuming animal products contributes to a profoundly unjust institution, then it is natural to conclude that one ought simply to stop. Moreover, many advocates worry that praising partial measures risks communicating that the interests of animals are negotiable or comparatively unimportant. Better, they argue, to articulate the moral ideal clearly and refuse to compromise it.
This reasoning, however, overlooks an important distinction. There is a difference between (a) identifying the morally ideal pattern of conduct and (b) determining how imperfect moral agents ought to move toward that ideal. These questions are closely related, but they are not identical.
The distinction is familiar from political philosophy, where philosophers commonly distinguish between ideal and non-ideal theory (Rawls 1999). Ideal theory is concerned with what justice requires under the most favorable conditions. Non-ideal theory is concerned with how imperfect societies might best move closer to those ideals. The latter question cannot be answered merely by restating the former.
The same point applies to ethical consumption. Even if strict veganism represents the morally ideal way to live, it does not follow that ethical consumption itself should be understood in purely binary terms, or that insisting upon perfect compliance is the most effective way to reduce animal suffering. The moral ideal and the appropriate normative framework for agents who fall short of that ideal are distinct questions.
Every moral movement therefore confronts two tasks. First, it must identify the standard toward which people ought to aspire. Second, it must determine how best to encourage imperfect human beings to move toward that standard. To confuse these tasks is to assume that the moral ideal itself settles how we should understand the moral significance of conduct that falls short of that ideal. It does not.
3. Contemporary Approaches to Ethical Consumption
Modern veganism emerged with the founding of The Vegan Society in 1944. From the beginning, it was understood not merely as a dietary preference but as a moral commitment to exclude, “as far as is possible and practicable,” all forms of exploitation of and cruelty to animals. That qualification signals recognition that complete disengagement from animal exploitation is extraordinarily difficult, perhaps impossible, in modern societies, where animal products remain embedded in food production, medicine, manufacturing, and countless consumer goods.
Despite the qualification, much contemporary vegan advocacy has tended to interpret veganism in absolutist terms. The most influential defense of this approach is associated with Gary Francione, who argues that because animal exploitation is fundamentally unjust, advocates should present veganism as the only morally acceptable pattern of consumption. Incremental reforms and partial reductions, he contends, risk legitimizing institutions that ought instead to be abolished altogether (Francione 2008).
There is moral force to this position. If factory farming is indeed a grave injustice, then demanding nothing short of complete disengagement from it makes moral sense in the abstract. Moreover, abolitionists are surely right that the moral seriousness of animal suffering ought not be obscured merely because its victims are nonhuman. Moral clarity is an important virtue in any reform movement.
In recent years, however, a different approach has emerged under the label reducetarianism, a term introduced by Brian Kateman (Kateman 2017). Reducetarianism encourages people to consume fewer animal products without insisting that they become vegetarian or vegan. Rather than treating ethical consumption as an all-or-nothing matter, reducetarians hold that every meaningful reduction in animal product consumption is morally worthwhile insofar as it contributes, however modestly, to reducing the demand that sustains animal suffering.
Reducetarianism represents an important corrective to abolitionism, resting on the recognition that moral progress is often gradual and that encouraging imperfect improvement may accomplish more than insisting upon immediate perfection. Nevertheless, I believe it does not go quite far enough. Someone who replaces a single meat-based meal each month with a vegetarian one counts, on the reducetarian view, as participating in reducetarianism. That is preferable to making no change at all, but by my lights it falls well short of the kind of transformation that serious concern for animals requires.
We need not choose between treating anything short of perfect veganism as utter moral failure and treating virtually any reduction as morally significant. Both approaches capture an important insight: abolitionism preserves the demandingness of the moral ideal; reducetarianism folds in the recognition that moral progress comes in degrees. The task is to preserve both insights without inheriting the weaknesses of either.
4. Ethical Consumption Is Not Binary
The disagreement between abolitionists and reducetarians reflects a deeper disagreement about the structure of ethical consumption itself.
According to much contemporary vegan advocacy, one either is vegan or one is not. On this picture, veganism, under ordinary circumstances, is not merely the moral ideal: it is the only pattern of consumption that possesses independent moral significance; everything short of perfect compliance falls into a single residual category. One may be closer to or further from the ideal, but those differences are not themselves treated as morally important.
Reducetarianism rejects this binary picture, but it does so by lowering the threshold for moral significance. If every reduction in animal product consumption counts as meaningful moral progress, then ethical consumption risks becoming almost infinitely permissive.
Both views, I suggest, rest upon an overly simplistic conception of ethical consumption. The former assumes that moral significance begins only with perfect compliance. The latter suggests that virtually any movement in the right direction qualifies. But neither view captures the way moral evaluation ordinarily works.
In most areas of moral life, we recognize morally significant differences between better and worse patterns of conduct. For example, we do not divide people into those who are perfectly generous and everyone else: we distinguish between those who give nothing to charity, those who donate occasionally, and those who organize their financial lives around helping others.
There is no obvious reason why ethical consumption should be different. If the moral considerations supporting veganism are compelling, then someone whose ordinary pattern of consumption overwhelmingly reflects those considerations has achieved something morally important, even if the person occasionally falls short of perfect compliance. Conversely, those whose consumption remains largely unchanged have not approximated the ideal in any meaningful sense merely because they have made a handful of marginal improvements.
The issue, then, is not whether patterns of ethical consumption admit of morally significant degrees. Few areas of moral life fail to do so. The more interesting question is where those degrees are normatively important. I hold that the relevant threshold lies neither at perfect veganism nor at mere reduction, but at substantial approximation to the vegan ideal.
5. Nearveganism
Nearveganism holds that individuals living under ordinary conditions in developed societies should organize their ordinary pattern of consumption around the moral considerations that support veganism. It therefore differs from strict veganism in recognizing that occasional departures from the ideal do not erase the moral significance of an otherwise overwhelmingly vegan pattern of life. At the same time, it differs from reducetarianism in requiring considerably more than marginal reductions in the consumption of animal products. The relevant standard is not merely improvement, but substantial approximation.
Precisely where that threshold lies cannot be specified with mathematical precision, nor need it be. Moral concepts frequently admit of borderline cases. We cannot identify the precise point at which someone becomes generous rather than merely somewhat charitable, courageous rather than merely somewhat brave, or environmentally conscientious rather than merely somewhat concerned about the environment. Yet these concepts remain perfectly intelligible. The same is true here. Nearveganism describes a recognizable pattern of ethical consumption even if difficult cases remain at its margins.
What matters, then, is not isolated dietary choices viewed one at a time, but one’s overall pattern of consumption. Someone whose ordinary practice is to purchase plant-based foods, avoid products that depend upon factory farming whenever reasonably possible, and organize their life around minimizing their contribution to animal suffering has approximated the vegan ideal in a way that is morally significant. An occasional slice of birthday cake containing dairy or a rare social exception does not represent moral failure.
Nearveganism is therefore substantially more demanding than reducetarianism. Replacing a single meat-based meal each week with a vegetarian alternative is certainly better than making no change at all, but such a modest adjustment does not fundamentally alter the structure of one’s consumption. Nearveganism requires that concern for animals become the governing principle of one’s ordinary dietary choices rather than one consideration among many.
This conception of ethical consumption also changes how we should evaluate moral progress. Instead of dividing people sharply into vegans and non-vegans, we should recognize substantial approximation to the vegan ideal as a distinct form of ethical achievement. Those who transform their diet from one heavily dependent upon factory-farmed animal products to one that is overwhelmingly plant-based have accomplished something morally important, even if they have not achieved perfect consistency. Likewise, a lifelong vegan who occasionally falls short has not thereby returned to “square one”. Moral progress is not erased by isolated departures from an otherwise morally serious pattern of life.
Recognizing these degrees of ethical achievement does not weaken the case for veganism: on the contrary, it takes the moral ideal seriously enough to consider how imperfect human beings are most likely to move toward it. If our overriding concern is reducing the immense suffering inflicted upon animals, then substantial approximation to the vegan ideal deserves recognition as a morally serious form of ethical consumption.
6. Objections
Nearveganism departs from both abolitionism and reducetarianism. It is therefore open to objections from both directions. Here I consider three of the most important.
6.1 Nearveganism Is Just Reducetarianism
One objection is that nearveganism merely repackages reducetarianism under another name. If both views encourage people to consume fewer animal products without insisting upon perfect veganism, then introducing a new category may appear unnecessary.
The two views differ in an important respect. Reducetarianism celebrates reduction as such. Nearveganism celebrates substantial approximation to the vegan ideal. Someone who substitutes a single vegetarian meal each week has done something worthwhile. That person has become a reducetarian. But the person has not become a nearvegan. Nearveganism therefore preserves the demandingness of vegan ethics while rejecting the all-or-nothing framework that often accompanies contemporary vegan advocacy.
6.2 Nearveganism Is Unnecessary
A second objection grants that nearveganism differs from reducetarianism but denies that the distinction matters. Why not simply retain the familiar distinction between vegans and non-vegans while acknowledging that some non-vegans live much closer to the ideal than others? Why introduce a new category at all?
The answer is that moral categories shape moral norms. So long as ethical consumption is understood as fundamentally binary, the dominant distinction remains that between vegans and non-vegans. That distinction is not false, but it is too coarse-grained to track the moral differences at issue. Patterns of consumption that approximate the vegan ideal exceptionally closely disappear into the latter category, despite differing enormously in their moral significance. Nearveganism makes that neglected category visible. It identifies a recognizable pattern of ethical consumption that deserves acknowledgment in its own right rather than being treated merely as imperfect veganism or unusually ambitious reducetarianism.
6.3 Nearveganism Weakens the Moral Message
The most substantial objection is that nearveganism weakens the moral message. If consuming animal products is genuinely wrong, then why encourage anything short of complete abstention? Does this not risk communicating that animal suffering is less serious than it really is?
There is genuine force to this concern. Moral movements often succeed precisely because they refuse to compromise with injustice. If abolitionists had urged merely reducing slavery rather than abolishing it, or if civil rights advocates had been satisfied with partial equality, their movements would rightly be regarded as moral failures. One might therefore argue that animal advocates should likewise present an uncompromising moral demand, even if many people fail to satisfy it.
The analogy, however, breaks down. The relevant question is how imperfect moral agents should be encouraged to respond to that injustice. One who moves from a conventional Western diet to one that is overwhelmingly plant-based has, other things being equal, likely reduced one’s contribution to animal suffering dramatically. It is difficult to see why that achievement should be regarded as morally insignificant simply because it falls short of perfection.
My contention has not been that the vegan ideal should be abandoned or diluted, but that substantial approximation to the vegan ideal possesses independent moral significance.
Conclusion
The central question of this essay has not been whether veganism represents the moral ideal. I have assumed throughout that, under ordinary circumstances, it does. The question has instead been how ethical consumption should be understood in a profoundly non-ideal world.
I have argued that contemporary discussions of ethical consumption often rest upon a false dichotomy. On one side lies strict veganism, understood as the only morally meaningful pattern of consumption. On the other lies reducetarianism, which regards virtually any reduction in the consumption of animal products as morally significant. Both approaches capture an important insight. Yet neither, I have suggested, provides the most satisfactory framework.
The deeper mistake lies in treating ethical consumption as either binary or nearly without threshold. As in other areas of moral life, we should recognize morally significant differences among patterns of consumption. Someone whose ordinary pattern of consumption is organized around concern for animals has achieved something morally important, even if the person occasionally falls short of perfect compliance.
Factory farming is among the greatest preventable sources of suffering in the modern world — and thus one of its greatest evils. If that judgment is granted, then reducing the demand that sustains factory farming should rank among our most important practical moral priorities. The challenge is not merely to identify the moral ideal, but to determine how imperfect human beings can move meaningfully toward it. Nearveganism is one attempt to answer that challenge.
References
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Gallup. “In U.S., 5% Consider Themselves Vegetarians.” August 1, 2018.
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Great article, love the concept.
I am curious about your views on eating farm raised organic animal products and how that fits in a "nearveganist" framework?
You specified "factory farmed animal products" several times for key definitions, but did not discuss the distinction of organic farm raised and the relative moral weight those decisions contain. Significantly less suffering, though more expensive (rightly so). And categorically non-vegan.
The most common non-vegan consumption pattern that is closest to veganism is vegetarianism. With the increasing prevalence of vegan options, vegetarians are now eating increasingly vegan meals quite by accident as their options in restaurants and now often vegan by default, as are the meat-free alternatives they buy in supermarkets, and non-dairy milk is now very common.