Anarchism and Animal Liberation: A Reply to Gelderloos

The underlying philosophies of anarchism and animal liberation are entirely compatible with (and even complementary of) each other. Anarchists seek to bring attention to the hierarchical relations that form the foundation of our relationships with humans and human institutions, shining a critical light on the inherently repressive and contradictory features of capitalism, the state, and other hierarchies maintained by force. Unlike the “radical” political parties, anarchists reject the use of the state apparatus as a means for achieving legitimate social change. They acknowledge the historical failure of structural reformism, as such initiatives inevitably get coopted and the efficacy of those reforms is, to say the least, limited. Instead, anarchists emphasize intersectional grassroots approaches as the best—indeed, only—way to halt the excesses and exploitation inherent in capitalism. As Lorenzo Kom’boa Ervin puts it, anarchists “feel that the social revolution is the process through which a free society will be created.”

Animal liberation (AL) activists insist that nonhuman animals have been unjustly and needlessly excluded from our moral purview. As with anarchists, AL activists recognize that this oppression is both rooted in and reinforced by institutional hierarchies. Supporters of animal liberation are not interested in regulating industries of animal abuse, and they see the futility of a reform which, say, provides caged hens with an additional three inches of space. Instead, they ground their activism on a platform of unqualified abolition of animal use. Animal activists strive to recognize the way animal and human oppressions are rooted in the same patterns of domination, hierarchy, and exploitation.

While there is significant overlap between anarchists and animal activists, they’re far from unified. Many AL activists organize as autonomous and decentralized cells, perhaps most notably the Animal Liberation Front, but most organizations operate in a more-or-less hierarchical fashion; additionally, there is typically minimal effort to contextualize the human treatment of animals. Anarchists, on the other hand, largely disregard the plight of nonhuman animals and their subjugated status in modern society. Lamentably, both AL activists and anarchists have had an inexcusable tendency to ignore or downplay the structural and systemic oppressions of marginalized individuals. Notwithstanding this very serious deficiency, a synthesis of the anarchist and AL platforms would bring us closer to a more holistic and integrative theory of domination and could prove beneficial to everyone involved.

And yet, unsurprisingly, there is resistance. i recently came across a couple of articles written by the American anarchist Peter Gelderloos (“Veganism: Why Not” and “Veganism Is a Consumer Activity”) in which he essentially dismissed any ethical obligations that humans have to animals with a smattering of the typical arguments. Curiously, “Veganism: Why Not” is essentially just a repackaging of his original argument in “Veganism Is a Consumer Activity.” The argument is much the same, and the only real difference is that he’s polished it up with some editing and made it a bit more readable. Though they were written years ago (2011 and 2008, respectively), the spirit of the critique is still more or less present in the anarchist movement. It seems that his arguments have yet to be addressed at any length, and seeing how specious and misleading they are, i wanted to take the opportunity to do so.

“Veganism Is a Consumer Activity” begins by conceding that “capitalism treats animals horribly.” These four words seem to suggest that Gelderloos does believe that nonhuman animals belong in the moral community, at least to some extent. He confirms this by drawing attention to the capitalist system’s “sadistic cruelty” toward them. He goes on to decry “industrial meat production” as being “inherently cruel” (cruelty, of course, is unnecessary and excessive infliction of pain or suffering, and implies that there is a way in which we are morally obligated to treat nonhuman animals.)

As the title of his 2008 article would suggest, Gelderloos believes that veganism is “an attempt to change capitalism and human civilization through the exercise of one’s privileges as a consumer” and is thus impossible. He essentially argues that veganism is only relevant within the context of industrial capitalism, and that veganism in and of itself is not a moral imperative.

In an attempt to illustrate his point, he vaguely alludes to “a number of indigenous societies," writing that “these omnivorous non-capitalist societies had a much lower ecological footprint and a much deeper affinity for animals than anyone socialized in an industrial society can ever gain in their lifetimes.” No one would dispute that the plight of animals, both free-living and domesticated, has been magnified under industrial capitalism. But, even if one were to take this statement at face value, it leaves out something rather crucial: even taking the highest population estimates, the world population of, say, 500 years ago, was 7% of what it is today. In other words, there are now thirteen humans alive for every individual alive in 1500. Certainly, even if we were to revert back to the practices of five centuries ago, forswearing all of the technologies originating in the years thereafter—a wryly humorous scenario to imagine, given the pathetic human response to the looming climate crisis—the explosion of the human population would itself be enough to place all life in a more vulnerable position.

More pivotal to his argument, though, is his assertion that indigenous societies—not one of which is mentioned by name—are exemplary of how to live “in harmony with the environment.”  What exactly does it mean to live “in harmony” with one’s environment? This question is of ever-increasing importance as we enter the stage of ineluctable and undeniably drastic climate change and struggle to mitigate the worst of its effects. Certainly, there is much to be learned from the practices of indigenous societies, both past and present; but blanket generalizations about the environmental practices of thousands and thousands of different peoples are hardly a solid foundation on which to build a case against veganism.

Not only does Gelderloos’ conjured notion of a universalized “ecological Indian” promote an outmoded and reductionist view of indigenous peoples and their environmental modifications prior to colonization; it also treats numerous vastly different peoples as one homogenous mass. Even when only considering indigenous societies in the Americas, there were nomadic hunter-gatherers, large scale agriculturalists, and everything in between. It would be misleading at best to suggest that there is one “indigenous model” to follow, and Gelderloos would do well to distinguish which systems he sees as being compatible with an anarchist future.

Nonetheless, there is indeed a general trend in indigenous societies (i refer to indigenous societies in the Americas, as those are the only ones with which i am familiar) to express remorse and even regret when a non-human animal is killed. Apologies will often be offered to the slain animal, which seems to indicate that the practice of stalking and killing is, in many ways, a regrettable activity. It was written over 100 years ago that, among the Maidu of California “the head hunter picked it [the first rabbit killed] up, and, pressing it tenderly against his chest, petted it and spoke soft words to it.” Typically, the motivation for these sorts of actions is to establish themselves as empathetic to the animals (which will, it is believed, entice more of them to “offer” themselves to the hunter).

American anthropologist Alfred Kroeber describes the way deer are believed to sacrifice themselves to the Yurok:

The old deer tell the young to try the house of such a one.  Then one of the young deer lies down in that man's snare and dies. ... None of the flesh is dropped on the floor. . . . After the meal the [deer’s] hands are carefully washed in a basket or wooden basin, then rubbed with fragrant chewed pepperwood leaves. ... After two days [the deer] returns.  “How do you like that house?” the elders ask.  “I do not like it,” it says.  “He does not wash his hands, and his women shift their feet while they sit at the meal.”  Or it answers:  “He is good.  He acts rightly.  Smell my hand.”  They sniff it, like the pepperwood, and frequently go into that man's snares.

Far from undermining veganism, though, this seems to reinforce it as being desirable. The omnipresent construction of myths in which animals “offer” themselves to humans suggests an ambivalence, to say the least, about taking their lives at all. Mi’kmaq scholar/activist Margaret Robinson suggests that, “since the consumption of animals for food, clothing and shelter is no longer necessary ... then the Mi'kmaq tradition, as manifested in our legends, suggests that hunting and killing our animal brothers is no longer authorized.” Cree scholar Billy-Ray Belcourt expounds upon the overlapping realities of colonialism and speciesism:

Animal domestication, speciesism, and other modern human-animal interactions are only possible because of and through the historic and ongoing erasure of Indigenous bodies and the emptying of Indigenous lands for settler-colonial expansion. For that reason, we cannot address animal oppression or talk about animal liberation without naming settler colonialism and white supremacy as political mechanisms that require the simultaneous exploitation or destruction of animal and Indigenous bodies.

A few of Gelderloos’ criticisms touch on issues worth addressing in a critical light (e.g., the objectionable use of “rights” rhetoric)  but they quickly turn into sweeping generalizations and baseless assertions. He decries the “spurious factoids” disseminated by vegans, but has no qualms about disseminating some of his own. He also appears to contradict himself. He insists that, although vegans “talk about saving animals,” we “haven’t made a dent.” A dozen or so paragraphs later, he writes in support of animal liberation tactics: “Even though the liberations will save a tiny number of animals from the conveyor belts of a vast death machine, each individual animal is worth saving. Such non-quantitative logic is valuable in a struggle for an anarchist world free of domination.” It’s staggering to hear a statement like “each individual animal is worth saving” from someone putting such effort into convincing others that it’s okay to exploit them. Equally baffling is his endorsement of “animal liberation” as “an important part of a full anarchist movement.” He also proposes that “lingering Christian morality” has “fiercely conflated a concern for animals with veganism,” but aside from some hackneyed “veganism is like a religion” rhetoric, he never elaborates on this.

Gelderloos waxes indignant that vegans have “suppressed the truth that you can’t be a capitalist environmentalist.” While painting vegans with a broad brush, he seems to discount the entire philosophy of veganism because not all vegans are anti-capitalist. At this point it starts to become clear that he’s evaluating veganism not on its philosophy of rejecting animal exploitation, but on the actions of its advocates. This is confirmed when he writes that he “was vegetarian for eight years ... before suddenly becoming an omnivore again in response to racist exclusions I witnessed from some white vegans.”

It’s difficult to comprehend how witnessing racism among vegans could lead someone to revert to exploiting nonhuman animals. To be clear, i’ve witnessed the racism he refers to, and it is shameful and urgently needs to be addressed. i personally stepped down as an organizer for a group that i felt was making a very concerted effort to stifle the voices of black folk. That said, racism can be uncompromisingly rejected without also rejecting the notion that nonhumans are not means to human ends. To draw a parallel, feminism is rather notorious for being white-dominated; yet surely that is no reason to stop fighting patriarchy and challenging sexism. Anarchists themselves don’t have the best track record on racial issues, and anti-racism is often not accorded the attention it warrants. One wonders why Gelderloos was so quick to disavow veganism upon encountering racist vegans, while apparently ignoring the presence of racism in anarchist circles. Indeed, many of his criticisms of veganism could very easily be applied to anarchists.

A handful of Gelderloos’ assertions border on the absurd. For example, he writes that, "in nature, killing and eating something is a respectful, intimate activity.” How does one become acquainted with what activities in “nature” (presumably meaning “in circumstances in which humans are not directly implicated) qualify as “respectful”? And not just “in nature”, he adds. We humans also “form an intimate relationship with that which we eat, understand it as a privilege to accompany the other creature in its last moments, and look forward to the day when we will also be killed and eaten.“ His definition of “intimate” seems perverse, to say the least.

He goes on to smatter in nutrition for a number of paragraphs. If we’re being honest, Gelderloos’ dietary claims lack any documentation whatsoever, and are hardly worth addressing on their own merit. They’re precisely the sort of “spurious factoids” he derides vegans for spreading. As i don’t want this post’s focus to be a discussion on nutrition, i address just a couple particular claims which i feel are sufficient to cast doubt on the credibility of the rest of his claims.

One of Gelderloos’ dubious claims is that "people of color are more likely to require meat for a healthy diet.” He fails to include a shred of evidence for this bold assertion—quite possibly because it’s baseless. Indeed, precisely the opposite trend has been observed for decades. Between 1935 and 1974—during which time animal products became much more accessible and affordable—cancers of the colon, breast, prostate, pancreas, ovary, kidney, and endometrium became more common for all Americans, but “the trends toward increased mortality were substantially higher among blacks than among whites.” Similar trends in Japan, Hong Kong, Singapore, and numerous other countries have also been attributed to increased consumption of animal products. Black vegetarians in the US have a lower prevalence of hypertension and cardiovascular disease than their non-vegetarian counterparts (and risk of the latter has been shown to be lower still in African-American vegans). Vegetarians in Nigeria and Barbados were also shown to be at less risk for cardiovascular disease. Hispanic-American vegetarians had lower blood pressure and a lesser risk of diabetes than their omnivorous counterparts.

Gelderloos dismisses any research which suggests health benefits to veganism, in part by suggesting that the studies are “affected by the fact that vegans and vegetarians tend to be more health conscious and wealthier, meaning that regardless of the meat question, they’re putting higher quality food in their bodies.” Apparently he has never bothered to read one of these studies, which virtually always include some sort of control for socioeconomic status, and therefore such issues do not skew the results.

i certainly don’t dispute that many people of color are likely to face barriers to veganism that most white folks will not encounter. These include deeply ingrained cultural traditions and economic disadvantages. Food deserts—low-income communities with little access to healthy and affordable food—are a pervasive issue, particularly in the US. And though it may seem expedient to consider food deserts as merely being a matter of class and not race, class issues do not alone tell the whole story. In Detroit, for example, impoverished African-American neighborhoods have fewer supermarkets than similarly impoverished white neighborhoods. A study in New York concluded that income is a less significant determiner than the “percent of blacks in the neighborhood.”

Unlike biologic factors, though, cultural and economic barriers are not insurmountable. This is perhaps where it is most clearly imperative for vegans to gain an understanding of the struggles of marginalized humans and to involve themselves with other struggles. This includes, at a minimum, acknowledging the privileges that you are born with. Oppression is oppression and one particular oppression need not (and should not) be subverted in isolation. Hierarchies must be destabilized wherever they are encountered; perpetuation of one preserves the rest.

On the flip side, anarchists must recognize speciesism as an oppression and a hierarchy. Perhaps the most damning aspect of Gelderloos’ argument is the way he fails to address the underlying principles of veganism. For him, veganism is but a “consumer choice.” He seems to put forth that idea as a way to circumvent the ethical foundation of veganism. It’s understandable that he would want to gloss over the moral aspects of veganism, because his few attempted rebuttals were the same tired arguments that will be met with eyerolls by anyone who has been vegan for longer than a week. (His arguments include “veganism is a religion,” “vegans kill animals too,” and a variant of “but what about plants?”) The ethical foundation is, ultimately, the only foundation of veganism.

If nothing else unites the two, both anarchists and vegans have a long way to go. Both face the formidable task of addressing the ubiquitous structures of oppression and domination in society at large. Perhaps equally daunting is the responsibility we have to root out the remnants of those structures within ourselves. Nevertheless, the philosophies of veganism and anarchism are two inextricably linked tools to achieving our goal: total liberation.