What is Possible and Practicable?

The Vegan Society defines veganism as:

“A philosophy and way of living that seeks to exclude, as far as possible, and practicable, all forms of exploitation and cruelty to animals for food, clothing, or any other purpose.”

While this is the most widely accepted definition, it often leaves people wondering what precisely is meant by: “possible and practicable.” I receive questions about this fairly frequently on my blog, so I’d like to offer my perspective for anyone who may find it helpful.

Many non-vegans are surprised by this loose definition, and imagine veganism to be far narrower than it is. It is much broader and more nuanced than simply “someone who doesn’t use animal products.” Veganism does not offer a normative, prescriptive approach to ethics where a stringent set of dos and don’ts covers every possible scenario you could come up against in daily life. This is both a strength and a weakness. Because there isn’t a rigid rulebook, we must use our own reason and interpretation to navigate ethical dilemmas.

This flexibility is vital. It casts a wider net that includes everyone, regardless of their disability, living situation, or health status. As long as you are doing what is “possible and practicable” to avoid animal exploitation, you are vegan. All you have to do is your best, and that is something that anyone can do.

So what is “Possible”? In my view, the “possible” part is fairly straightforward. If an animal product is unavoidable e.g. life-saving medication, it is easy to conclude that you should take it, regardless of animal testing or ingredients. Similarly, if your living situation means the only alternative to animal products is starvation, you are no less vegan for eating what you have to just to survive.

The “practicable” qualifier is where things get hazy. What is practicable for one person may not be for another, and that is exactly the point. For me, it is very practical to avoid all animal-based foods. However, for someone in recovery from an eating disorder or with extremely limited food access, that may not be the case. It is nearly impossible to source a completely animal-product-free vehicle (due to tyres, electronics, or interiors). If you can avoid driving, that’s great; if you can’t, your best compromise might be buying a second-hand vehicle.

There are situations where things get even murkier. If you have a chronic skin condition or a very dry scalp and no vegan treatment works, an argument can be made that you could technically choose to live with the discomfort of embaressment. You don’t need dandruff free hair, or clear skin. Similarly, you could technically live in chronic pain rather than take animal-tested medication. But is it reasonable to expect vegans to be miserable because there is no viable alternative to the product that would markedly improve their life? I would argue that it is not.

There are also things that aren’t strictly necessary for survival but are central to living a fulfilled life. For example, we don’t need to watch films, but I don’t believe vegans must boycott every historical drama or fantasy film because horses were used on set (assuming no egregious cruelty occurred). Sourcing a vegan violin bow or certain film cameras can be incredibly difficult. For most of us this is no problem, and it would be all too easy to just say a blanket ‘no’ to the question of whether or not buying a violen bow or film camera is vegan. But if this is your life’s passion, the equation changes a little bit. In that case, surely it is reasonable to find the best compromise, such as buying used equipment, rather than abandoning the pursuit entirely.

At the heart of all this issue is the matter of perspective. All too often I see vegans approach other people’s moral dilemmas without ever really taking into account their own privilege. I don’t mean that in any loose, historical sense either, I mean that in a very practical way. I am independent, healthy and I make enough money to not have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. I don’t have an eating disorder or any real food aversions, and I live in the UK where vegan options are common and reasonably priced. It would be incredibly arrogant of me to apply my standard of what is possible and practicable to someone who lives in a food desert or has physical or mental health issues that significantly narrow their choices. I am not “more vegan” than they are because it is practical for me to avoid more animal products than they are able to.

That said, it is important to point out that ‘flexibility’ doesn’t mean that anything goes. That you can’t find a vegan coat that is in the style you want you doesn’t justify going out and buying a leather jacket for the sake of fashion, or eating a Big Mac because there is nowhere else to get a fast food burger nearby. There are usually other options even if it isn’t a like-for-like alternative, and where it is reasonable to do so, vegans should obviously choose the option which causes less harm. That may mean enduring a bit of inconvenience, not getting quite what they wanted, or buying second hand instead of new. There is a balance to be struck between choosing the practical option even it is not perfect, and misusing this principle as a way to justify buying things that you would have realistically been perfectly fine without.

Regardless of this caveat, I know that some may still call this perspective “soft” or “apologist.” There is often an insatiable appetite within movements like ours to be the most radical, or to play the age-old “I am more vegan than you are” game for the sake of clout. However, for any ethical system to properly function, it must be practical. While we need moral baselines and red lines, there is no point in setting joyless, impossible rules that make veganism inaccessible to the majority of people. We cannot let perfect become the enemy of good.

It is easy to become mired in the minutae of daily life and overcomplicate veganism, precisely because it is not a “set it and forget it” kind of belief. Veganism is something that we have to apply every single day, to every decision we make. But we shouldn’t let that make us forget that vegan is a verb, it is a doing. Veganism is a goal that we strive towards but none of us can ever fully achieve, because living a lifestyle completely free from harm and animal exploitation is just not possible under capitalism.

Being vegan is about reducing the harm we cause in the world, but it is not a purity test. It is not our fault that we live in a world that is build on the backs of exploitation animals, a world which seems to intentionally stack the odds against anyone who wants to avoid seeing animals as mere commodities. That we have to make practical compromises is a systemic issue, it is not an issue with veganism and is certainly not a personal moral failing.

The great strength of veganism lies in the fact that its core principle is simple, flexible, and entrusts us as moral agents to use our reason to make our own ethical decisions. You are the expert on what is practical in your own life; nobody else can judge that on your behalf. Veganism is a belief in the liberation of animals, it is moral framework, not a checklist. I think that it is all the better for it.

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