My Quixotic Quest to Convert Carnivores

For most people, the holidays are a time of unparalleled joy and merriment. Ostensibly good food is served, gifts are received, and all forms of excess become acceptable. What's not to love? Sure, stomachs may become a bit more robust and wallets more, but all in all, most everyone agrees with that oft-played yuletide tune that "it's the most wonderful time of the year." (Hopefully, you sang that part for full effect.)

For me, however, the holidays are a harbinger of depression, not bliss. They bring to mind harsh realities rather than the fabled dreams of sugar plums. Instead of being filled with gratitude when the gluttonous feast is set before me, I am overcome by an acute sense of failure, a sense that's reinforced by every barbaric bite I witness. All of my family members and all of my friends persist in their carnivorous ways even as they claim to be both compassionate and rational. And this is true in spite of my truly herculean efforts to convert them.

At first, I tried to appeal to logic. I related the masterful argument of Peter Singer and mistakenly assumed that my most enlightened relatives would be reformed posthaste. After all, these people had to be rational if they were related to me, and I knew that Singer's argument could not be refuted. My plan was foolproof...or so I thought. In part my predictions proved correct; none of my friends or family were able to offer a real counterargument. Even so, they continued contradict Singer's contentions with their meat-intensive diet. I was shocked and quickly lost respect for everyone I tried to convert. Upon failing with family members, I started to question the integrity of my genes; with friends, I merely questioned my judgment.

But veganism is a moral and environmental imperative so I persevered in my quixotic quests at persuasion. Realizing that no one cared about philosophy, I decided to make an environmental appeal instead. Because there are only about seven environmentalists in my lovely red state, I knew this approach could only be employed selectively. But given the substantial environmental degradation wrought by animal agriculture, I again assumed that this argument would be wildly effective at converting my few environmental friends. And again, I was only half right. None of them denied the argument, but all of them denied the lifestyle change it entailed. Admittedly, some were vegetarian to begin with, but these individuals were unwilling to go any further, and the carnivores displayed the same insurmountable inertia. My entreaties ran up against the usual half-hearted, nay, heartless excuses: "That's just too extreme" or "I love meat way too much." You're right guys. Your need for a juicy steak is way more important than the planet's need for, oh I don't know, water. How silly of me to even ask...

Crestfallen once more, I decided to try yet another approach. Devoid of compassion myself, I chose to skip over the PETA-esque argument and appeal directly to self-interest, something I can relate to. Feeling like a total hypocrite with each successive utterance, I implored everyone to eschew meat for their health alone. Don't do it for the animals or the environment, I told them, do it for yourself. Do it so you don't have a heart attack when you're forty. Do it so you don't get cancer early or break your hip (it turns out that milk isn't exactly the miracle worker that the dairy industry says it is). And most importantly, do it so I don't have to be repulsed every time I see your fat a--your rotund person walking past me.

Having read quite extensively about vegan nutrition, I was able to make this argument very effectively. And unlike my past attempts, this approach met with a modicum of success. My mom switched to soymilk and reduced her consumption of other animal products significantly. My father, the former dairy farmer, chose to forsake his health and stubbornly refused to voluntarily change his ways. But, because my mom is the one who buys the food, he is accidentally eating healthier nowadays too. Meanwhile, my theoretically health-conscious brother went so far as to consider (but not actually adopt) eating one vegan meal per week, and my cancer-plagued grandpa nominally converted for about a week and a half after my pleading. (He has since relapsed.) That's right. This is the sum total of my success--and, tragically, it's an improvement.

But before I get too carried away with a sense of triumph, I have to note the critical flaw here. To the extent that anyone changes at all, they only adopt a policy of moderation, not abstinence. This is unfortunate for the planet and the animals of course, but it also pretty much nullifies the health benefits of the vegan diet. Most Americans eat such an absurd amount of animal products right now that cutting back a little just doesn't accomplish much. Long-term health benefits become noticeable when animal protein consumption drops below 10% of one's daily Calories. And most Americans get around 20% of Calories from said protein. No wonder our healthcare costs are so high...

So even though some people have cut back, it's fair to say that my nutrition tactic was a failure just like all the rest. Clearly,appealing to the mind alone was a futile endeavor, because even though my arguments were never rejected, they were never sufficient to justify the supposed sacrifice involved. Thus, ever an innovator, I realized that I needed to prove that being vegan wasn't a sacrifice at all. I had to show the world that vegans can indeed eat delicious food. (And we get to eat so much more of it.) To say that going vegan is a sacrifice is patently false. It's like saying that country music is enjoyable, or that America promotes democracy, or that Fox News (or any of the others for that matter) is fair and balanced. I think you get the idea.

With this logic in tow, I set out to become a vegan chef. And while I must admit that my first few creations weren't exactly crowd pleasers, nowadays I'm a regular culinary artist. As evidence, I point to the fact that even my stubborn father has approved of my work. He described a recent dessert of mine as "nonvegan," which was probably the most awkward compliment I've ever received. Anyways, the point is that I have conclusively shown that being vegan does not mean being deprived of taste. On Christmas Eve, my brother actually put back the ham so that he could have another one of my grilled tofu strips. I don't mean to brag, but the truth is that my food does not simply compete with traditional faire, it wins. And yet, I've still converted no one. Now it's no longer a sacrifice; it's just too "inconvenient." After all, I'm constantly informed that not everyone has time to cook all day. (Apparently I do). So once again, my assumptions proved fallacious. How silly of me to inconvenience them. I'm sure their diet was very convenient for the cow--you know, the one that's dead because of them.

And now, after being defeated in so many different ways, I cannot help but throw my hands up and wave the white flag of surrender. I have addressed every excuse. I have refuted every argument. Somehow, I have still failed, and the inevitable holiday feast is an unwelcome reminder of that fact. So please forgive me if I don't share your Christmas cheer. Because while you're thinking of Santa and sugarplums, I'll be thinking about all the suffering--of the planet, the poor, the animals--that I couldn't prevent. But worst of all, I know you will suffer also; you, the people I love and cannot hope to respect.