The thought experiment is one of the most potent human cognitive abilities. To peer into hypothetical worlds and thereby elucidate truth about our own is tantamount to gazing into a crystal ball and divining the future—or, a possible future, at least. And to envision a possibility is the first step in bringing it to reality. In keeping with the long legacy of philosophers and other insufferable know-it-alls, I’d like to present a thought experiment that has eaten away at me for the past few weeks, and if you’ve read this far, it probably means you’re indulging me. Thanks!

Let’s start from a very simple premise. There is a button in front of you. If you press it, you will immediately bring about several massive, positive changes to both you and the world at large. In no particular order, the effects are as follows:

• The amount of unnecessary direct cruelty and suffering in the world gets reduced by a significant, but difficult to qualify, amount.
• You immediately reduce the risk of contracting many types of cancers and physical ailments, on average gaining 3 to 7 years of lifespan, and your remaining years of life increase in quality.
• Over the course of several years or perhaps decades, a significant but difficult to quantify of people do not experience or receive a lessened experience of a harm which would either greatly inconvenience or in the worst case kill them.

This eclectic list of benefits is not difficult to evaluate—anyone who either values themselves or values others (which I baselessly and matter-of-factly claim describes 99.9% of us) should unflinchingly and unerringly press this button. This, of course, does not make a very compelling thought experiment. There is only upside so far. Let us set the other half of the stage. Should you press this button, you will also incur the following effects:

• There will be a period of time on the order of a couple of months where you will experience a moderate amount of discomfort.
• You will occasionally have pangs of regret for having pressed the button, and be tempted to fiddle with it and unpress it, albeit temporarily.
• There will be a one-time investment of time needed to reevaluate and relearn some habits in your life.

And that’s it. That’s the depths of the Faustian deal that the button offers. If you’re like me, and you value the well-being of other humans (as well as your own health—3 extra years of life is a lot of potential joy, happiness, and writing time!), then the temporary discomfort isn’t much of a deterrent. What gives?

Let’s suppose the reality of the button is not so uncomplicated. Suppose that, instead of a one-time press, you had to hold the button down for a certain amount of time every day—perhaps an hour or two at first, then dwindling down to the realm of a few minutes each day. Eventually, after anywhere from a month to a year of holding down the button, it stays pressed of its own accord, finally leaving you unburdened.

Moreover, let’s suppose there’s some controversy surrounding the button. Many people worry that by pressing the button, they’re in actuality making their own life worse rather than better, and shortening it rather than prolonging it. As best as you can tell, the worries are baseless, but persistent, so revealing that you pressed the button to one of these worriers causes them distress—sometimes even disgust.

Finally, let’s suppose that you try to keep up with the habits of the button, but fall short every so often. However, nothing stops you from pressing the button again, or even un-pressing it if you ever have doubts. In fact, this is the course of most people who end up pressing the button. We’re imperfect creatures, after all.

Dear reader, this button exists, and it has a name. Its upsides are real, but so are the downsides, including the doubts, disgust, and misinformation persisting about it. So many people’s egos and identities are caught up in defiance of the button in spite of its overwhelming benefits—against their interests and yours. Perhaps you are among those who cringe when they hear it mentioned.

Veganism.

(Or, if you’re made of weaker stuff like I am, vegetarianism.)

The button, of course, is “eating meat.” Although we are wired to derive great pleasure from eating it, the reality is that we eat too much of it. I recall the words of my dad, recounting the words of his father: “it’s not a meal without meat.” We have grown fat and happy on a diet of cheap, subsidized meat. To go without it is to give up one of the great pleasures in life (simultaneously, to give it up is to reduce the odds of colorectal cancer). Yet, this is not a binary choice we face—to choose to eat meat or forego it is not a permanent sentence. Unless you do so for religious or moral grounds, you can eat meat on occasion without blame—or, at least, far less blame than everyday consumption. This, I think, is the crux of the division between meat-eaters and moral objectors. In our current historical context, we can no longer afford to let ‘perfect’ be the enemy of ‘good’ in this arena. It is, I’d argue, a moral fact that just as we should press the button in the hypothetical, so should we consider, contemplate, and embrace a reduction in personally consuming less meat in the real world. What good is a button never pressed?

The process is not an overnight one. Even the resolve to go without meat is not enough on its own—it must accompanied with a plan of action. After all, you’re just one missed meal and a fast food drive-through away from reneging on that resolution. Eating meat is often a matter of convenience since we live in a world predicated upon its consumption.

But what if it WAS an overnight transformation? This is where the final twist of my thought experiment happens.

Suppose there exists a genetically modified virus that made you allergic to meat, similar to alpha-gal syndrome that’s contracted from the bite of the lone star tick. Should a conscionable person then willingly infect themselves with this virus? For the sake of argument, let’s assume this virus is incapable of spreading between humans apart from willingly receiving an injection to introduce it to your system.

By infecting yourself, you are closing the gate forever. As an indirect result of your actions, innumerable lives will be saved (not all of them human, mind you). The impact of your existence on climate and water levels will dramatically decrease. And, of course, if you use the opportunity to shift your diet, you will likely reap massive rewards in health and longevity—all at the cost of some temporary discomfort.

If such a virus were to be made and assured to be safe, I would, by my own moral system, be obliged to take it. Perhaps, then, this is merely an affirmation of my cowardice that I would require such a step to purge the use of animal products from my life (or, perhaps, is merely indicative of my addiction to cheese).

But what of you? Would you embrace the same fate? Or, need such a virus even exist as long as we can conceive of it? In other words, would you embrace this virus even though it’s entirely hypothetical? This, I hope, is the power of the thought experiment–to change reality with fiction, and to help pierce the veil that separates us from rational, moral action. I can only hope that this virtual virus is enough to make a difference.

The next move is yours.

Further reading:
https://www.britannica.com/procon/vegetarianism-debate#ref393486
https://www.bbc.com/future/article/20220429-the-climate-benefits-of-veganism-and-vegetarianism
https://www.budgetbytes.com/african-peanut-stew-vegan/ (This is one of my favorite meals!)