Photograph by Eylul Aslan / Connected Archives
Words by Eve Upton-Clark
If you met me this time two years ago, my veganism would probably have come up in conversation. What started as a commitment to protecting animals from harm soon expanded as I researched the environmental benefits of eating plant-based and discovered that many of my favorite animal-derived foods had surprisingly good, vegan alternatives.
Over the past few years, though, a few chocolate bars slipped through the cracks—along with a pastry here, a slice of pizza there. When friends introduced me as vegan, I’d awkwardly correct them: “Actually, I’m vegetarian now.” I still haven’t been tempted by meat and fish, and I still opt for oat milk and vegan cheese. But I no longer restrict myself to just one or two vegan options on a menu when dining out, indulging instead in creamy pasta dishes and saying yes when the dessert menu comes around.
My more lenient diet coincided with a broader cultural shift as former die-hard vegans publicly confessed to abandoning the diet, and social media feeds—once filled with oat milk lattes and tofu scrambles—suddenly featured burgers and charcuterie boards. Headlines started cropping up: “Are We Losing Our Appetite for Veganism?” and “Why Vegan Products are Being Left on the Shelf.”
The data backs up this cultural cooling. Sales of chilled and frozen meat alternatives fell by around 21% in the year to June 2024, compared to two years prior, according to consumer intelligence firm NIQ. The decline isn’t limited to just purchases, either. Google search trends show that interest in terms like “veganism,” “vegan diet,” and “vegan recipes” peaked in late 2019 and early 2020, steadily declining in the years since. It’s no surprise, then, that there has been a 29% drop in the number of people identifying as vegan over the past two years, according to research from consumer insights platform GWI.
So, where have all the vegans gone?
To understand how we got here, it helps to look back at how veganism first entered the mainstream.
Veganism is not a new concept, stretching back to ancient Indian and West Asian cultures. The actual word “veganism” was coined thousands of years later, in 1944; and the first Veganuary campaign launched in 2014, officially bringing the diet mainstream. In 2018 came The Game Changers, a hit Netflix documentary featuring prominent athletes like Lewis Hamilton and Arnold Schwarzenegger praising the benefits of a vegan diet for performance. By 2019, veganism was mainstream: A quarter of all new food products were labeled vegan, and sales of meat-free items had surged 40% in five years. The Economist declared it “The Year of the Vegan.”
Six years on, it seems many have lost their appetite for veganism. Former celebrity advocates—including Miley Cyrus, Beyonce, and more recently Lizzo—have all publicly stepped away from the lifestyle. Even Schwarzenegger came out since his documentary cameo to report that his diet today is only about 80% vegan. Many cite health reasons for the switch. This is a far cry from the mid-2010s, when veganism was practically synonymous with health and wellness. In my case, I decided to scale back my vegan lifestyle to boost energy levels through protein-rich breakfast staples like eggs and Greek yogurt—though achieving similar protein intake on a vegan diet is entirely possible with careful planning.
For many, of course, veganism has always been more than a diet; it’s a lifestyle that extends to clothing, cosmetics, and personal ethics. But today, its time in the spotlight has been eclipsed by a new cultural obsession with protein—specifically that coming from meat.
“Once a fringe regimen, the all-meat diet now feeds into a worldview that prizes traditional gender roles and is outwardly skeptical of science.”
Vegans have long been targets of unflattering stereotypes. But in today’s culture wars, right-wing media recast veganism as a symbol of “wokeness,” dismissing plant-based men with infantilizing labels like “soy boys.” Meanwhile, the rise of the carnivore diet—promoted by manosphere influencers and podcasters, and a handful of contrarian doctors—has become part of a broader rightward cultural shift that equates strength, masculinity, and national pride with meat consumption. Once a fringe regimen, the all-meat diet now feeds into a worldview that prizes traditional gender roles and is outwardly skeptical of science.
Under Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s controversial banner of “Make America Healthy Again,” eating steak has become more than a dietary choice—it’s a rejection of liberal food politics and an endorsement for “common sense” masculinity.
In the eyes of many men across the United States, eating meat is considered a sign of strength. In 2024, 71% of American adults said they were trying to eat more protein compared to 59% in 2022, according to an International Food Information Council study; meanwhile, sales of protein bars, powders, and drinks increased by 24.2%. “There’s a lot of fear around the need for protein because people don’t really know how much they need,” said David Robinson Simon, a lawyer and author of Meatonomics. “But this exaggerated sense of heightened need for protein is actually driven, at least in the U.S., by the meat industry itself.”
The science and information available on this is mixed. Federal guidelines recommend that most adults get about 0.36 grams of protein per pound of body weight per day—though individual needs can vary. But if online “meatfluencers” are to be believed, that number should be much higher.
It’s not just meat that’s making a comeback. Many are swapping their oat flat whites for cow’s milk again. Even Oatly, once the poster child of the plant-based movement, has come under increased scrutiny as consumers take a harder look at its ingredients.
This shift is unfolding alongside a broader backlash against ultra-processed foods. Fueled by bestsellers like Food or Fiction? and Ultra-Processed People, the very products that once helped make veganism more accessible are now under fire as the pendulum swings back toward “real,” “raw,” and minimally processed foods. It’s what trad wives—who promote traditional values and “natural” health practices under the guise of lifestyle content—are calling “ancestral eating.”
Plant-based convenience products like meat substitutes and readymade meals helped ease many consumers into veganism. But now, they’re increasingly being left on the shelf thanks to ingredient lists packed with emulsifiers, inverted sugar syrups, and stabilizers.
“In the last several years, I’ve become much more focused on eating healthy—more whole foods, fewer processed meat substitutes—for both me and my wife,” Simon said. “I think a lot of people in the vegan movement are going through the same sort of evolution. And that is certainly driving the decline in consumption of foods like Beyond Meat and Impossible.”
Still, Simon doesn’t believe this signals the end of veganism. “The movement is just growing up,” he said. But that doesn’t mean the shift isn’t without growing pains. Research suggests the cost-of-living crisis is a key factor in veganism’s perceived decline—for many, plant-based alternatives are simply too expensive. On average, vegan products cost 14% more per serving than their non-vegan counterparts, according to one survey. And when budgets tighten, pricier items such as meat substitutes get dropped from shopping lists.
Eco-fatigue is another reason veganism is seeing a downturn. While some view recent headlines—raging wildfires, catastrophic floods, record-breaking heat—as a call to action, for others, the relentless pace of climate news has had the opposite effect. If the planet is burning, increasingly nihilistic logic goes, we may as well enjoy a burger while we watch.
“People globally are still embracing plant-based diets, even if that looks more like vegetables and tofu with an occasional side of meat than strictly vegan burgers and dairy-free ice cream.”
The environmental benefits of plant-based eating, however, are hard to ignore. Vegan and vegetarian diets produce just a quarter of the greenhouse gas emissions of high-meat diets, according to one study. A global shift to a plant-based diet could cut climate-heating emissions, water pollution, and land use by 75%. And the need for change has never been more urgent. On his first day in office, President Donald Trump pulled the United States out of the Paris Climate Agreement. Now, reports confirm that 2024—the hottest year on record—was the first to exceed the critical 1.5-degree Celsius global warming threshold. If there was ever a time to reconsider what we eat, it’s now.
Even if consumer demand doesn’t change, supply will. “That’s inevitable,” said Toni Vernelli, head of communications at Veganuary. By 2050, the planet will need to feed an additional 2 billion people. Yet today, only 55% of the world’s crop calories go directly to human consumption. The rest are diverted—about 36% to livestock feed, and around 9% to biofuels and industrial products.
While fewer people now identify as vegan, that doesn’t mean they’re unaware of meat’s environmental footprint. Many are choosing a flexitarian approach instead, intentionally cutting back on meat without giving it up entirely. “Businesses that offer plant-based foods recognize that a large proportion of the population are now trying to reduce their meat consumption,” says Vernelli. “This is actually their target audience.” That’s in part why businesses are increasingly moving away from the “vegan” label, opting instead for “plant-based,” a term that resonates more broadly with consumers. This subtle rebranding reflects a shift in the movement itself: it’s becoming less about dietary labels and more about making sustainable food choices accessible to a wider audience.
Despite what the headlines suggest, interest in plant-based eating hasn’t disappeared entirely. In fact, according to Vernelli, the number of people who took part in Veganuary this year was the highest it’s ever been. People globally are still embracing plant-based diets, even if that looks more like vegetables and tofu with an occasional side of meat than strictly vegan burgers and dairy-free ice cream.
Two months ago, Simon attended a talk by Miyoko Schinner, the founder of vegan cheese company Miyoko’s Kitchen. “She described this shift as vegan 2.0,” he said. As the carnivore movement gains momentum and beefed-up masculinity makes a loud return, the plant-based world isn’t necessarily retreating, Simon notes. It’s recalibrating, offering more than just alternatives—it’s offering a smarter and more balanced approach to food.
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