Communalism without Veganism is Just Another Philosophy

Communalism, specifically as defined by Murray Bookchin, is a pretty niche philosophy. At it’s core, communalism attempts to synthesize anarchism (and achieve the abolition of hierarchy) and communism (and achieve functional governance) through what he calls “municipal libertarianism,” which allows for direct democracy (not consensus) on small scale, community based decisions. Communalism also centers environment and ecology within its framework, as Bookchin argues that humans are fundamentally a part of nature, and therefore systems which exploit nature will ultimately exploit humans. Specifically, he believes that the subjugation of nature begins with the imposition of hierarchy of human over human, and until humans live in harmony (no hierarchy) with one another, we cannot live in harmony with the planet. For instance, in his critique of environmentalism under capitalism (and most forms of socialism) in the Ecology of Freedom, he states, “Environmentalism does not question the most basic premise of the present society, notably, that humanity must dominate nature; rather, it seeks to facilitate that notion by developing techniques for diminishing the hazards caused by the reckless despoilation of the environment.” He views this as a social change that must happen if we are to live in a world free of natural destruction.

Bookchin looked as kind as his philosophy was smart!

Some would say that the destruction of nature is a result of just how many of us humans there are in the world, and that regardless of whatever human system we create, the humans themselves would cause destruction. Bookchin, lifelong enemy of ecofacism, rejects the idea that subjugation of nature is a result of the sheer number of humans alive today. In his brief essay “The Population Myth”, Bookchin points out how wholesale ecological destruction has been happening long before our current population highs. Indeed, his powerful insistence on a blending of society in a mutualistic relationship with the earth would suggest that he believes that there is no necessary relationship between quantity of people and impact on earth, just that systems would need to change to improve and modify that blending over time. Bookchin’s heart lies in the healing of human-to-human relationship that will enable the healing of the human-to-world relationship.

In one specific essay, “Radical Agriculture”, Bookchin dives into our relationship with the land as sustenance. He explores the beauty of a humanity that was, for a very long time, intertwined with nature through agriculture that became, like all other facets of the world, one of hierarchy over nature and the processes that produce nutrients so divorced from the experience with nature that it hardly resembles agriculture as it evolved. In one poignant example of how this manifests, Bookchin writes “a ‘farmer’ often turns out to be an airplane pilot who dusts crops with pesticides, a chemist who treats soil as a lifeless repository for inorganic compounds, an operator of immense agricultural machines who is more familiar with engines than botany, and perhaps most decisively, a financier whose knowledge of land may be less than that of an urban cab driver.”

Bookchin’s philosophy is deeply appealing to me, and I believe that, on most subjects, he addresses issues I have had with other philosophies. He uplifts ecology as an essential component of human society, he finds joy in this philosophy, and emphasizes the freedom that Communalism can bring. Yet, in light of this, one thing shocked me. Murray Bookchin was not vegan. In Radical Agriculture, he even makes a passing reference to the subjugation of animals, but it does not occupy a central part of that essay. Of course, a philosopher does not need to practice their philosophy in order for it to be accurate, but Bookchin was a man who acted on his beliefs; not merely a philosopher, a practical philosopher.

The Vegan Society defines veganism as “a philosophy and way of living which seeks to exclude—as far as is possible and practicable—all forms of exploitation of, and cruelty to, animals for food, clothing or any other purpose.” This applies to non-human and human animals alike, but most often veganism is invoked to prevent harm to non-human animals. Also, it is not simply a diet, veganism is a philosophy whose end goal is the reduction of suffering for animals, which most often happens through systematic subjugation of entire species, or else flows out of a non-mutualistic relationship with ecology and the inherent side effects therein. This feels right up Bookchin’s alley.

But shouldn’t the healing between humans happen before the healing between humans and non-human animals? After all, if the underlying problem is hierarchy among humans, would being vegan change anything before that human-to-human healing is done? Bookchin himself points to the priority of a cultural change, of this human-to-human healing, as a necessary predecessor to other types of healing such as economic, environmental, etc. I would say a couple things to that.

First, it is possible to care about more than one thing at once. We can strive to end human subjugation as we remove ourselves from and dismantle systems of animal subjugation. While Bookchin does make it clear that removing human subjugation is first in line, I think this itself flows from a fundamental flaw in his belief in the difference between human and non-human animals. It might have made more sense for Bookchin to frame the order of dissolution of hierarchy as first the healing of animal(including humans)-to-animal relationships followed by the healing of animal-to-other relationships. I’m actually not entirely sure how you would remove all human-over-human hierarchy without completely abolishing factory farming, anyway, and Bookchin would agree that this is a manifestation of his philosophy in practice. Maybe there is some synthesis with concentric circles of concern formulated 2500 years ago, with healing expanding outward through the circles of concern beyond what Heraclitus had formulated and into the realm of non-human animals.

Second, I believe that veganism is an expression of the type of thinking that undermines human subjugation, and anyone who believes that animals do not deserve exploitation must also believe that humans do not deserve exploitation, as humans are animals. Ed “Earthing Ed” Winters said in a conversation with a human rights activist, “The way we see it is that all oppression is interconnected…if you raised every child on this planet, right, every child that was born on this planet, and you said, ‘that life of that chicken should be granted with respect, and they should be allowed to live that life,’ and you said, ‘that fish in the ocean, who you will never meet, should be allowed to live the life they want to live in the ocean, without human oppression or exploitation’ then do you think that child would ever grow up to oppress another human? If they thought that all species - or all beings regardless of how they looked, or if they had feathers, or scales, or wings, or whatever form they took - you know I think that child would learn to respect all life, including indeed our own, if we taught them that every species should be allowed to live that life.” Fundamentally, belief in removing exploitation for animals applies to all animals, including humans, and can actually accelerate your healing with human-animals as well.

Finally, I don’t think it is possible to be a non-vegan and not exploit. Remember, exploitation of ecology was a central sin in Bookchin’s eyes, even if it was symptomatic of a broken relationship between humans. Anyone who uses another human as simply a means to an end is exploiting that person - that is one of the main points of socialist utopian writers. Bookchin would go further, and say using a river as means to an end, or a forest, or even solar energy (Bookchin was a big believer in solar, but believed that large-scale, industrial applications fell prey to the same exploitation as a natural gas plant does) is exploitative. Animal agriculture, even where animals are well cared for, uses animals as means rather than treating them as ends. A cow becomes a way to get meat or milk, a chicken a way to get eggs, a sheep a way to get wool. I’m not sure what the mutualistic approach there is, and Bookchin never seems to help us understand it either. That’s a massive oversight, and is a sore spot in an otherwise solid philosophy.

I can’t say why Bookchin didn’t take what is, to me, a very logical step and integrate veganism into his philosophy. Maybe he really did not see animals as worthy of that same healing, though I wonder how this is compatible with the human-to-nature healing he views as so important. Maybe he simply never thought about it, but this is hardly an excuse for a philosopher. Whatever the reason, the beauty of the philosophy is that it isn’t “Bookchinism,” it is Communalism. And that can be what we make it. And what we make of it matters : the very healing of humans, systems, and ecology rest in its practical application.