Vegetarians catch a lot of flak. Vegans catch more. But, in my personal experience, there is no one more reviled than the flexitarians.

In my third year of university, I was vegetarian. Whilst on the Appalachian Trail, I ate whatever I was given or came across. Last year I was imperturbably vegan. These past six months, I’ve been almost entirely vegetarian, but have made a few exceptions.

Throughout these changes, people’s jibes and (loving) challenges varied. Veganism attracts complaints of puritanism, whereas being flexitarian lands criticisms of hypocrisy or half-heartedness.

I actually think they’re often right. I want to switch this up, and thus propose a new approach I’ll adopt for the coming months. To be clear, its rational is solely grounded in the ethical motivations for veganism – reducing animal suffering and improving animal welfare – rather than health or environmental reasons.

First, I’ll outline why I think veganism is mostly ethically correct, then why I struggle with it, and then outline what I deem to be a pragmatic solution.

Veganism

Motivation:

1. Animals are being farmed, slaughtered, abused and defiled at a rate greater than ever before in human history. It is an ethical catastrophe, and one we cannot pretend is not happening.
2. Our financial support for sourcing animal flesh is not the only cause of suffering. Deriving animal products (eggs, milk) also creates untold suffering in today’s day and age.
3. Suffering is bad.
4. We must therefore stop all consumption of animal products.

Philosophically and ethically, I view the logic of this argument to be mostly sound. But I do have some problems with it.

My criticisms:

Being vegan for only ethical reasons, I don’t believe it is inherently wrong to consume animal products or animal flesh. I also don’t believe that human constructions of morality – do not take the life of another – extend universally to animals.

I still cannot understand why eating an egg collected from a genuinely free range chicken, or eating a steak that someone will otherwise throw away, is wrong. Arguments proposed against this feel too abstractly philosophical.

There is an element of the martyr about veganism. So vast are the processes by which animals are farmed, slaughtered and exploited, that one singular consumer choice will in actuality not affect whether an animal suffers.

This is not an argument against veganism as a whole – at some point it will reach a critical mass, and rates of factory expansion and farming intensity will decrease. But in the meantime, I do feel some animal-welfare-motivated vegans put irrational weight on purity.

A final argument thus follows: always saying no to consuming meat will not actually help anyone. It may also mean you miss out on some beautiful acts of generosity from strangers, or opportunities to share in and understand their cultures.

Vegan-ish-ism

Where I am at currently is in a place that I feel addresses and balances all the above issues.

Vegan-ish-ism acknowledges the ethical catastrophe of animal agriculture while recognizing the limitations of individual purity. It’s a practical approach that prioritizes reducing harm without demanding perfection.

In my view, it is not far removed from the ethical approach to animal welfare advocated by Peter Singer.

The core of my philosophy here is simple: eat plant-based whenever reasonably possible, but allow for exceptions when they serve a greater purpose or when refusing would prevent waste. This means:

1. Maintaining a largely plant-based diet at home and when ordering for myself.
2. Accepting food offered by others, especially in cultural contexts or when refusal would create waste.
3. Choosing the least harmful option available when plant-based isn’t viable.
4. Avoiding puritan guilt that can lead to abandonment of ethical eating altogether.
5. If friends and family ask when they’re cooking for me, I’ll just say I’m vegetarian.

The strength of vegan-ish-ism lies in its sustainability. Many who attempt strict veganism eventually abandon it entirely, whereas a flexible approach tends to last longer and therefore prevents more animal suffering in the long run.

Why not just call this flexitarian then, you may ask? Honestly, because I think it’s a rubbish word. It is ill-defined, wishy-washy, and encompasses everything from following a Meat-Free-Monday (not hating on that, by the way – any reduction is great!) to something more like this approach.

Why this isn’t just an excuse to eat meat

Vegan-ish-ism requires honest self-reflection. It’s not about finding loopholes to indulge cravings, but making thoughtful choices that balance reducing harm with living in the real world. When I make exceptions, they’re deliberate and meaningful – accepting a meal prepared by someone sharing their culture, or consuming something that would otherwise be wasted.

In practice, this approach means I would eat vegan 95% of the time, which dramatically reduces my contribution to animal suffering while maintaining flexibility for human connection and cultural experiences.

Ultimately, the goal shouldn’t be dietary purity but maximum reduction of suffering. If being occasionally flexible means staying committed to an otherwise plant-based lifestyle for years rather than months, the net benefit for animals is greater.

Pragmatism, not purity, is what will create lasting change both personally and globally.