The Power of Scholar Activism

In Conversation with Ophélie Véron.

Ophélie Véron is a geography researcher and Marie Skłodowska-Curie Fellow at the Center for Metropolitan Studies at Technische Universität Berlin. Her research focuses on urban contestation and social movements, with particular emphasis on the vegan movement and alternative food networks. Ophélie has held research positions at Université Catholique de Louvain and The University of Sheffield, where she explored the critical geographies of race, class, and gender in grassroots initiatives. She is a prominent voice on vegan culture in the French-speaking world, and is the founder of the blog Antigone XXI, one of the most popular French-language resources on veganism, sustainable development, and ethical consumption. She has also authored several books, including the seminal Planète Végane. An alumna of ENS Ulm and the University of Oxford, she holds a PhD from the University of London.

You became vegan in 2012, at a time when the movement was still very marginal in France. What prompted you to create the Antigone XXI blog?

I became vegan some time before creating Antigone XXI. At the time, the choice was far from obvious: intellectual resources were scarce, especially in French, and veganism was largely misunderstood. We were witnessing the emergence of online visibility, but there was a lack of a French-language space that was accessible, well-documented, and rooted in in-depth reflection.

I wanted to create what I hadn't found at the time of my transition: a place for discussion and reflection on the ethical, environmental, and political dimensions of veganism, without neglecting more mundane aspects, such as recipes, practical advice, and daily life issues. I was inspired by people like Peter Singer, who in the first edition of Animal Liberation, combined philosophical analyses with cooking recipes: theory and practice go together.

At that time, being vegan was often a solitary experience. I didn't know anyone else around me who shared similar concerns. Hence, the need to create a space for sharing, to create a sense of community, to break the isolation. This community was built on shared stories, common values, and collaboration in response to a society that was still largely hostile.

Later, when I looked into veganism from an academic perspective, and not just as an activist, I came to understand the extent to which collective identity serves as a fundamental lever for mobilising individuals, reinforcing solidarity, and ensuring the resilience of social movements, particularly when they are diffuse, like veganism.

Although veganism is perceived as an individualistic lifestyle, centred on personal consumption choices, it is built through collective negotiations daily: knowledge sharing, mutual aid, ethical discussions, militant practices, but also common resistance to dominant social norms. It is through these interactions that a collective consciousness is nurtured, and one that transcends individual journeys and contributes to the emergence of a community.

When I launched my blog, it was also at a time when there was a great deal of confidence in the power of individual gestures: to consume differently was, in a way, to change the world on one's own scale. My activism was fully aligned with this perspective. Over the last few years, through my research, I've come to realise how this approach, although well-intentioned, can conform to neoliberal logics and weaken activism.

The movement has evolved, and so have I. My activist practice has broadened to become part of a wider political vision, encompassing antispeciesism, feminism, and ecology. This global struggle, against all forms of oppression, has become the foundation of my current engagement, at the crossroads of social, environmental, and ethical struggles.

As a committed activist, what kind of resistance did you encounter? Were there moments of doubt, or even loneliness?

Being an activist often means navigating a huge gap between the energy of collective struggle and the sometimes discouraging realities of everyday life. For me, the hardest part has often been the family environment. The same repeated remarks, the same stereotypes, the same thinly veiled mockery, wearisome in the long run. Fifteen years after I stopped eating meat, my mother still asks me if I could “make an exception.” Funny enough, when she visits us, she enjoys our vegan cooking!

Paradoxically, becoming a mother myself both shook and strengthened my beliefs. We doubt and question ourselves: Am I going too far? Am I forcing my children to embrace a fight that’s not theirs? But there's also a sense of urgency: What kind of world will they grow up in? Do I want a society based on gender stereotypes, inequality, and ecological destruction for them? Of course not. But this implies a constant commitment in the face of sexist or racist nursery rhymes, the absence of plant-based options in meals, gendered differentiation in educational treatment, among others. These are small, often invisible, but ongoing struggles. I sometimes feel like I'm swimming against the tide, but that's where I draw my strength from.

You've chosen to devote your research to alternative food systems and socio-ecological transition initiatives. What motivated this change of direction, and what have been your most surprising discoveries to date?

I wanted to combine my personal commitments with my work as a researcher. As a geographer, I focused on urban dynamics and social movements. My thesis focused on the dynamics of exclusion, inequality, and struggles in divided cities in the Balkans. My last fieldwork assignment in Macedonia came to an abrupt end when I was expelled and returned home drained and discouraged.

I felt the need to turn my attention to more hopeful subjects. So I redirected my research towards grassroots movements, including community gardens, people’s kitchens, and community-supported agriculture. These local, collective, often experimental initiatives seek to transform the city, and sometimes even the world, by sowing seeds of change, both literally and figuratively.

In France, the distinction between academic activity and activist practices is still very marked. It is frowned upon to consider research as a tool for social transformation. We continue to value so-called “objective” research, without taking into account the fact that each researcher brings with them / their own history, subjectivity, values, and privileges. The concept of scholar-activism, much more widespread in the English-speaking world, offers a different vision. It sees the university not as a space disconnected from social reality, but as a place of active transformation. In this context, militant research becomes a form of intellectual and political resistance. Researchers are not simply observers: they are change agents, using the knowledge they produce to question existing power structures and defend values of social and environmental justice.

My current work is part of this dynamic. I'm interested in projects that aspire to “change the world,” like the idea of “system change, not climate change.” The aim here is twofold: to combat environmental degradation while simultaneously reinventing our lifestyles, social relations, and economic structures. My work analyses the links between these two dimensions. Can ecological progress really be reconciled with social justice?

What's fascinating is that, at first glance, these initiatives are thought to have only positive effects. They promote urban greening, food security, health and citizen participation. Yet (and this is the paradox), they can also reinforce inequalities, contribute to gentrification, and reproduce class logics. For example, racialised communities are often excluded from community gardens, to the benefit of affluent white populations. On the other hand, by relying on the voluntary commitment of individuals, these projects are often part of a logic of depoliticised green individualism, and tend to compensate for, rather than challenge, the disengagement of public authorities. In the absence of state or municipal investment, unpaid but well-intentioned citizens are mobilised. This voluntarism, however precious, is not enough.

These observations are difficult, but essential if we are to think about a truly just transition. The question is not how to initiate a sustainable ecological transformation, but how to ensure that it benefits everyone?

How can the leaders of these rebel initiatives resist established systems while ensuring that their movements remain inclusive in terms of race, class, and gender?

Many of these movements claim a horizontal, leaderless organisation. But the power dynamics are there. The front line is often made up of white, university-educated people, mostly men, even though the majority of these spaces are occupied by women.

This raises an essential question: do we want to defend a single cause at all costs, or adopt an intersectional approach that links struggles? This debate runs through the environmental and animal rights movements. Organisations like PETA have been sharply criticised for violent, sexist, or fatphobic actions. It's true that we defend animals on the one hand, but if we're going to bash other oppressed groups on the other... This reminds us of the importance of constantly questioning our practices, our messages, and our privileges.

There are ways of creating truly inclusive spaces. Grassroots initiatives, and not only them, must actively engage in the fight against structural oppressions, such as racism, ableism, and sexism, by integrating these issues into their governance, objectives, and practices.

In addition to grassroots initiatives, researchers also have a role to play: by collaborating with local communities, documenting projects run by marginalised groups, and producing knowledge that is situated, useful, and emancipating. It's not enough to recognise alternatives: we need to help them emerge, enhance their value, and give them the means to transform the city, not as a space of domination, but as… a place of justice and systemic change.

In your opinion, what qualities must a leader possess to transform rebellious, unconventional ideas into meaningful, lasting action?

I'm wary of the word “leader”, but let's just say that a person who takes the floor or sets a dynamic in motion needs to know how to listen, question, and empathise. They must embody the values they defend, without cutting themselves off from the field.

Above all, they must not seek to embody the cause, but to create the conditions for others to express themselves, to empower themselves, to take part in the movement. Real power is shared power.

How can we ensure that rebellious ideas are not rejected altogether by the general public?

By building bridges. It's not a question of watering down your message, but of starting from people's realities: their struggles, their daily practices, the diversity of their social situations. We need to rethink our own privileges when addressing them, listen to their concerns, and what motivates them on a daily basis, while giving a voice to those directly impacted. Small steps should not be dismissed but linked to larger issues to reveal their political significance. The danger lies in constructing rigid boundaries between “them” and “us”.

We can't convince people by making them feel guilty, but by telling stories, sharing experiences and showing that another world is not only possible, but already in the making.

Interview by Baptiste Raymond, 05/2025.