Humans tend to act like they’re the center of everything, don’t they? That “I’m better than every other living thing” vibe shows up everywhere. Anthropocentrism basically means believing humans are superior to and separate from all other animals and nature. It’s as if we’ve decided we’re the main characters in Earth’s story, and everything else just fills in the background.

Questioning anthropocentrism might be veganism’s most crucial move because it challenges the core delusion that props up human-to-nonhuman animal oppression and exploitation. When you choose veganism, you aren’t just changing your diet—you’re rejecting that self-absorbed fantasy that other animals exist just for your benefit.

But hey, not all veganism is the same! Some vegan messaging still keeps humans at the center, like when it focuses mostly on health perks or how veganism turns YOU into a better person. Next time you’re biting into a plant-based burger, maybe ask yourself: Am I just swapping out animal products, or am I actually questioning the whole hierarchy that puts humans on top? The answer might catch you off guard.

Anthropocentrism: The Human Center (of the Universe… or Not)

This human-centered worldview shapes how you treat other species and the environment. It influences what you eat and how you justify your place in the world.

Anthropocentrism means believing humans are the most important beings around—like we’re the main characters, and everyone else is just set dressing. Oops, did I say “we”? Humans sure think highly of themselves!

This view didn’t just show up one day. People built it over generations, with religious teachings (“dominion over the earth”), philosophical ideas, and social systems that kept reinforcing human superiority.

It’s pretty convenient, psychologically. You get to be the hero of the story and justify using other species for food, clothing, entertainment, or research.

Modern life keeps this mindset going. Language (“it” versus “he/she”), cities designed for humans, and school curriculums that treat human history as the only story worth telling all reinforce the idea.

Speciesism basically acts as anthropocentrism’s eager sidekick. It means thinking your species deserves more moral consideration than others. It’s a kind of discrimination, just not about race or gender—it’s about species.

You’ve built a tidy hierarchy: humans at the top, pets in the middle, and “food animals” way down at the bottom. Funny how the animals you eat always end up being the ones you consider least worthy of moral concern.

The human/animal split keeps this worldview going: “We’re humans, they’re animals”—as if you didn’t all come from the same evolutionary tree! This language trick helps you keep your distance from your animal relatives.

People make claims like “only humans have language” or “only humans use tools” to keep themselves on top. Science keeps chipping away at those claims, revealing complex animal societies, emotions, and intelligence.

If you look closely, those solid lines between humans and other animals start to blur. Elephants mourn their dead. Crows make tools. Pigs beat toddlers at certain cognitive tests. It gets a little awkward!

Every nonhuman animal is an individual. That chicken isn’t just “a chicken”—she’s got favorite perches, friends, and snacks she prefers.

The idea of indistinction shakes up your neat categories. The line between human and animal is more of a blurry spectrum than a sharp divide. Lots of the things you consider “uniquely human” show up in the animal kingdom in different forms.

Animal cognition research keeps turning up evidence of self-awareness, emotional depth, and social learning in everything from crows to dolphins. The human pedestal keeps shrinking.

People put humans at the top of the moral ladder and drop the animals they eat near the bottom. It’s pretty convenient that bacon tastes good AND supposedly comes from animals who don’t deserve moral consideration, right?

The ethics of animal products raise tough questions. If it’s wrong to cause unnecessary suffering, and you can live just fine without animal products, how do you justify the suffering involved in making them?

People come up with all sorts of justifications: “Circle of life!” “Our ancestors ate meat!” “Plants feel pain too!” These arguments help dodge the gap between your values (like compassion and fairness) and your actions (supporting industries that hurt animals).

Anthropocentrism makes animal suffering seem less important than even small human pleasures. You’d never use “but cheese tastes good” to justify hurting a dog, but somehow it works for cows.

Human-centered ethics struggle with nonhuman suffering because they start from the idea that humans matter more. When you dig into the reasons for this, they usually boil down to “because we say so.”

From Human Narcissism to Animal Liberation

Veganism throws a wrench in human-centered thinking that puts our needs above every other species. If you look at vegan philosophy closely, you’ll see it’s not just about food—it’s about breaking down the belief that humans are the center of the moral universe.

Ever notice how people talk about animals like they’re just objects? “It’s just a chicken” or “It’s only a cow.” That’s the human-centered (anthropocentric) view vegan advocacy tries to flip upside down.

Groups like The Vegan Society, PETA, and Viva! use language that challenges the idea that only humans matter. But it’s not always easy. Sometimes, vegan messaging accidentally keeps humans at the center even while trying to help animals.

It’s almost laughable how people talk about “humane slaughter”—if that isn’t an oxymoron, what is? Good vegan advocacy doesn’t just ask you to eat differently; it invites you to see yourself as part of a bigger community where every being deserves moral respect.

Think you’re socially aware because you care about human rights? Well, there’s more to it. Real social justice goes beyond humans and includes all sentient beings.

When you embrace veganism with intersectional awareness, you start to see how systems of oppression connect. The same mindset that excuses animal exploitation often supports human oppression, too.

Slaughterhouse workers often face physical injuries, PTSD, and economic hardship. That burger comes with a human cost as well. This isn’t just about cute animals—it’s about workers’ rights, environmental justice, and challenging systems that harm the vulnerable.

Feminist-vegetarian critical theory even links how we talk about meat to how we talk about women. “I like my women like I like my steak…” Ever hear that one? It’s unsettling once you see the connection.

Ever notice how you call an animal “it” without thinking? Yeah, I’ve done that too. Our language sneaks in all kinds of little ways to keep animals at arm’s length.

The words you pick build these invisible walls between us and them. Critical discourse analysis shows just how much we center humans in our everyday talk. When you say “livestock” instead of naming cows, pigs, or chickens as living beings, you’re, maybe without realizing it, backing up the idea that some animals exist just for our use.

Even folks who really care about animals sometimes slip into the “human savior complex” mindset. You hear, “We must protect the voiceless animals!” But honestly, animals aren’t voiceless—we just don’t speak their language, right?

Switching up your language might sound small, but it actually helps break down those mental walls that keep animals in a separate, less-important category.