Was Benjamin Franklin a Vegetarian?

Benjamin Franklin: founding father, inventor, diplomat, and—at least for a while—a devoted vegetarian. Long before kale smoothies and quinoa bowls took over Instagram, young Ben decided to forgo meat for the sake of morality and discipline. Unfortunately, as anyone who’s ever been in the presence of sizzling bacon can attest, abstaining from tasty things requires an iron will (or at least an iron deficiency).

Franklin’s foray into vegetarianism began with the noble goal of not capitalizing on humanity’s dominion over the animal kingdom. He reasoned that if humans could thrive without feasting on their fellow creatures, then perhaps they should. This was all well and good—until he found himself on a boat with a pile of freshly caught cod.

When Convictions Meet Cod

Here’s how Franklin describes the moment in The Autobiography of Benjamin Franklin:

“I consider’d, with my master Tryon, the taking every fish as a kind of unprovoked murder, since none of them had, or ever could do us any injury that might justify the slaughter. All this seemed very reasonable. But I had formerly been a great lover of fish, and, when this came hot out of the frying-pan, it smelt admirably well. I balanc’d some time between principle and inclination, till I recollected that, when the fish were opened, I saw smaller fish taken out of their stomachs; then thought I, ‘If you eat one another, I don’t see why we mayn’t eat you.’ So I din’d upon cod very heartily…”

And with that, Franklin’s strict vegetarianism took a convenient and delicious detour.

The Eternal Pescatarian Dilemma

Franklin’s logic—essentially, “If fish eat each other, then surely I can eat fish”—is a shining example of humanity’s unmatched ability to rationalize just about anything. It’s the same mental gymnastics that lead modern-day vegetarians to embrace the pescatarian lifestyle, allowing fish on the menu while keeping other meats off the table.

Pescatarians have their reasons. Some argue that fish don’t feel pain the way cows or chickens do. Others justify it on nutritional grounds—after all, iron deficiencies are no joke, and a poorly planned vegetarian diet can leave one woozy, cranky, or in desperate need of a steak. And, of course, some just pretend fish don’t count as meat. Because of — reasons.

The Great Fish Size Paradox

What makes fish so ethically expendable? Perhaps it’s their size. Society seems to have an unspoken rule that the bigger the creature, the more tragic its demise. A deer struck by a car gets a roadside memorial; an ant gets casually flicked off a picnic table. Both are animals, both belong to the great kingdom Animalia, but one merits a tearful eulogy while the other doesn’t even get a second thought.

Read Benjamin Franklin’s sorrowful warning to anti-vaxxers.

Franklin, however, wasn’t one to be bound by such inconsistencies. He knew full well that a fish was still an animal, and that eating one wasn’t all that different from eating a cow. But in the moment—standing on the deck of a ship, inhaling the scent of freshly fried cod—he discovered the true power of being “a reasonable creature”:

“So convenient a thing is it to be a reasonable creature, since it enables one to find or make a reason for everything one has a mind to do.”

We, of course, embrace this kind of thinking. Eating healthy is a good thing. Calcium is essential for healthy teeth and bones. Cheese has calcium. Cheesecake has cheese. The only logical conclusion is that cheesecake is healthy and good for you.

“So convenient a thing is it to be a reasonable creature…” That Franklin fellow sure was a clever guy!

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