Mocking Compassion Is the Real Problem

Veganism Isn’t…..

Veganism Isn’t the Problem — Mocking Compassion Is

This week, The Spectator published a piece by Katie Glass ridiculing Billie Eilish’s decision to make her O2 Arena concerts fully plant-based. Fans were reportedly unhappy with the vegan food on offer, and this was used as a springboard for a long, sneering takedown of vegans — who were called sanctimonious, extreme, socially toxic, and, naturally, annoying.

It’s not the first time veganism has been dragged like this in the media. And sadly, it won’t be the last. The piece in the Spectator wasn’t really about food. It wasn’t about nutrition, the ethics of animal agriculture, or even concert catering. It was about identity — about mocking the people who have made a choice that unsettles the status quo.

But instead of simply reacting with anger, I want to ask a more generous question: why would a journalist like Katie Glass — intelligent, articulate, clearly capable of empathy — write something like this?

Because I really don’t believe she’s heartless. I don’t believe most people are. But I do think this kind of writing reveals something deeper about our cultural discomfort with what veganism represents. It isn’t just a diet. It’s a refusal. It says: “I won’t participate in the unnecessary suffering of animals if I don’t have to.” That might sound simple, even gentle. But in a society built on the normalisation of animal use — in our food, our fashion, our entertainment — that refusal is radical and it is also confronting.

When someone chooses not to eat meat, they don’t just change what’s on their plate — they quietly invite others to question what’s on theirs. And for some, that feels like judgment, like moral pressure or like guilt.

So instead of engaging with the reasons behind veganism — animal cruelty, climate breakdown, health, justice — it becomes easier to mock the people who live it. To paint them as joyless extremists, “tofu-munchers,” or self-important lifestyle influencers. To dismiss compassion as trendiness, and conviction as attention-seeking.

This is exactly what Katie’s piece did — not by offering substantive critique, but through sarcasm and cultural shorthand designed to trigger eye-rolls rather than thought.

I know this not just because I’m vegan, but because I wasn’t always. I trained in a world where animal-based cuisine was the foundation — classical, revered, deeply entrenched. Shifting away from that wasn’t performative. It was painful. It meant rethinking nearly everything I had learned and taught. But I couldn’t ignore the contradiction between what I believed — about care, creativity, and respect for life — and what I was perpetuating.

And I know many others who’ve gone through similar journeys. Not out of a desire to be better than anyone, but because they couldn’t unsee what they had learned. They changed because their hearts asked them to. That’s not sanctimony — it’s responsibility. So when an article laughs at people who care, it’s not just unfair — it’s corrosive. It encourages readers to reject empathy before they’ve even had a chance to understand it.

Katie Glass’s piece doesn’t offer a reasoned argument against veganism. It doesn’t address the realities of modern animal agriculture, or the massive environmental cost of meat production, or even the well-established health potential of a balanced plant-based diet. Instead, it paints vegans as irritating, controlling, and — most tellingly — morally aggravating.

And maybe that’s the point. Not that vegans are wrong — but that we’re annoying because we won’t let everyone else forget what they’re complicit in. Yes Katie, you are complicit and yes you have a problem- see picture below:

But here’s where I want to give her the benefit of the doubt.

I don’t believe that deep down she truly thinks people trying to reduce animal suffering deserve ridicule. I think she, like many, has absorbed a cultural allergy to moral urgency — a weariness with being told to “do better,” even when better is clearly needed. It’s easier, and sometimes more profitable, to make jokes than to confront cruelty. Especially when that cruelty is tied to something as intimate and habitual as food.

Still, I wish she’d written something braver.

Veganism isn’t about moral superiority. It’s about moral consistency. If we say we care about animals, the planet, justice, health — then it makes sense to align our choices with those values.

Yes, some vegans are loud. Yes, some get it wrong. So do people in every movement. But those imperfections don’t invalidate the cause. They humanize it.

This isn’t an indictment of meat-eaters. It’s an invitation — to look again. To consider that a world with less harm is worth striving for, even if it makes us uncomfortable. Especially then.

Katie, if you ever read this: I don’t think you’re cruel ( I think you actually love your dog) But I do think you’ve aimed your sharpness at the wrong target. Veganism doesn’t deserve to be mocked — it deserves to be understood. Not because vegans are perfect, but because the animals we fight for have no voice, and someone has to speak.

If that makes some people uncomfortable, so be it. But maybe discomfort isn’t the enemy. Maybe it’s the beginning of something honest.