Face of Nation : The timing was awkward.Ontario firefighter Adam Knauff had launched a human rights complaint against his employer, alleging he was not provided with adequate vegan food while fighting a forest fire in B.C. two years ago, and — worse, in his view — that he was sent home and suspended without pay after speaking up.
On the very morning Knauff and his legal team went public with his allegations, he was tapped to fly across the country with his crew to fight a fire in Alberta — his first out-of-province deployment since the 2017 experience that he says left him humiliated.
Knauff travelled to Alberta in May as his story made international headlines, wondering how colleagues might react. But aside from a few curious looks on the journey in, Knauff says, there was no fuss. No one in Alberta asked about the lawsuit and he didn’t bring it up. Despite what people may think, he says he’s not looking for attention.
“I just went there to fight fire with my crew. I didn’t go there to stand on a soap box or put anybody to a test or anything,” Knauff says, speaking on the phone from his home in Kenora, Ont., in his first interview about the case.
In his complaint to the Human Rights Tribunal of Ontario, Knauff alleges that his employer, the province’s Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry, discriminated against him by failing to provide food that accommodated his “personal commitment to ethical veganism” while he risked his life fighting the massive 2017 wildfire in B.C.
In one meal, his only source of protein was a single black bean, he says in the complaint. The lone bean was sitting atop a bell pepper stuffed with rice, like a garnish, Knauff recalls by phone. If the cooks were able to get one bean, he wondered, where were the rest?
Though Knauff, 40, calls himself a “very private person” — the kind of guy who prefers to be in the middle of the forest, not in the middle of controversy — he is now at the centre of a legal challenge that seeks to establish veganism as a “creed” akin to religion under Ontario human rights law, a potentially precedent-setting case.
Knauff believes humans do not have the moral right “to oppress other beings … or cause them pain and suffering,” his complaint says, and he argues that his ethical veganism deserves protection under the Human Rights Code.
At the Ontario-run base camp in Williams Lake, B.C., Knauff, who worked as a crew leader, says he was repeatedly served meals that were not vegan, or meals that were vegan but contained little or no protein — like the one-bean dinner — which left him in a perpetual state of hunger and distress while he struggled to perform the gruelling work of firefighting.
Working 16-hour shifts, he subsisted on power bars, dry bagels from Tim Hortons and the little food served that he could eat, while trying to work with staff on a solution, according to his complaint. Nine days in, he became frustrated and demanded better treatment — using profanity and a raised voice, he acknowledges — and was sent home and banned from out-of-province deployments for the 2017 and 2018 seasons.
The ministry denies the allegations, arguing veganism is not a creed but that staff nevertheless accommodated Knauff “at all times.”
Near the end of his deployment, Knauff says by phone, a supervisor told him “that I would probably make a lot more headway if I was quote unquote ‘nicer’ about the whole thing.” Knauff says he tried nice, and it didn’t work.
“I’m tired of nice,” he says from Kenora. “I’m a really nice person actually. I’m just really, really tired of everybody treating me really, really poorly because of how I live my life, which I don’t feel is hurting everyone.”
Knauff felt he was treated as though he simply did not like the meals he was offered — and was being picky and difficult — rather than a person whose strong beliefs about the exploitation of living creatures compel him to shun animal products.
His case has sparked debate and raised questions about what is a personal choice and what is not, what is “reasonable” in an emergency situation, the hierarchy of dietary accommodation, the traditionally masculine culture of firefighting, and the tendency of those in power to interpret difference as difficulty.
In his complaint, Knauff alleges that one senior staff member, who drove him to the airport after he was suspended, laughed at him and said: “I would bend over backwards for allergies, but dietary ‘preferences?’ Nope.”
This attitude is one Knauff has confronted before. The idea that on the spectrum of dietary accommodation, allergies come first, then religious beliefs, and at the very bottom of the bucket, vegans.
“I’ve been practising (veganism) harder than almost anyone I know personally who is religious,” Knauff says. “And my beliefs don’t seem to matter to very many people. It’s not taken seriously. It’s a joke to a lot of people.”
And that is why Knauff decided to take a stand.
His complaint generated scorn from some who see the whole thing as an overreaction, a symptom of the snowflake generation’s sensitive tendencies, or a symbol of human rights crusaders gone too far.
“Do we not have to ask people to have a little bit of common sense?” a Montreal radio host said on a CTV panel that discussed the case. “When you’re deep in the bush and the bush is on fire, there’s no menu! There’s, like, you know, here’s some water and have a sandwich.”
Knauff became a vegetarian in the early 1990s, as a 13-year-old living with his parents and three siblings in Thunder Bay — not exactly a time or a place when giving up meat for ethical reasons was common. At 18, he went vegan, motivated by his concern for animal welfare and the environmental impact of animal consumption.
He spent much of his 20s working seasonally as a tree planter in remote locations across Canada, where he says vegan food wasn’t hard to come by, since plant-based diets are common in the tree-planting community. He became a forest firefighter in 2008, and though there are fewer vegetarians and vegans in that world, Knauff says in his complaint that he’d always been able to manage through “diligent communication with base camp staff, purchasing my own food, and, on occasion, cooking for myself.” The resistance he encountered in 2017 was a shock, he says.
Bruce Ryder, a professor at Osgoode Hall Law School who teaches human rights law, believes Knauff has a strong case that could set an important precedent.
“It does strike me that his allegations, if they are backed up by evidence and accepted by the tribunal, would lead to the conclusion that he has been discriminated against on the basis of creed,” Ryder says.
The Ontario Human Rights Code prohibits discrimination on a range of grounds, including creed, which has traditionally been understood to mean religion. In 2015, the Ontario Human Rights Commission expanded its definition of creed to include a broader range of non-religious beliefs. The commission’s policy is not legally binding, but the tribunal may take it into consideration.
If Knauff’s case makes it to the tribunal — many are settled — and the tribunal rules in his favour, it would be the first time veganism is recognized as a protected belief system by a Canadian human rights tribunal, Ryder says. In the past, tribunals have considered cases where veganism was argued to merit creed status, but none have yet ruled on the issue, instead deciding those cases on other grounds.
The decision could have sweeping implications, Ryder says, opening the door for other provinces and jurisdictions to make the same move and forcing employers, service providers and landlords to think more carefully about their duty to accommodate a broad range of spiritual and ethical belief systems.
But the “floodgate” argument — that giving veganism creed status would usher in a surge of complaints — may be overblown, says Wade Poziomka, Knauff’s lawyer.
“I don’t think this is going to be a floodgate concern that’s going to put a significant burden on employers,” he says. “Most decent employers are already accommodating ethical veganism,” and those who aren’t will find it is relatively inexpensive to do so “and not the burden some may envision.”
Poziomka also points out that not all vegans would fit under the definition of creed. “It depends on how far their belief system goes and why they are vegan. Some people are vegan simply for health reasons.”
The Ontario Human Rights Commission has not offered a view on whether veganism merits creed status, but recommends considerations that should be taken into account. Those include whether the belief system is “sincerely, freely and deeply held” and “integrally linked to a person’s identity, self-definition and fulfilment,” whether it addresses “ultimate questions of human existence,” and whether it has “some connection to an organization or community.”
The ministry denies Knauff’s allegations and argues in a response that his vegan status may be a “sincerely held lifestyle choice,” but does not meet the legal definition of creed. Even so, the ministry disputes Knauff’s view of his 2017 deployment and argues staff supported him “at all times” as if his dietary needs “were a component of his health needs or part of a recognized creed” — not out of a legal obligation, but as part of the government’s commitment to an “inclusive and supportive work environment.”
The essence of Knauff’s argument, the ministry argues, is that “the accommodation provided was insufficient because his desired amount of protein was not provided.”
The employer’s obligation is to provide “a reasonable accommodation,” not the “preferred” accommodation Knauff was seeking, the ministry says, arguing that with limited resources in a crisis, staff accommodated him up to the point of “undue hardship,” which is a defence that can be invoked if the tribunal rules discrimination has occurred.
In other words, the ministry has taken the position that Adam Knauff was being difficult.
But how difficult can it be, Knauff’s supporters ask, to source a can of beans while procuring meat and eggs for 1,000 other emergency workers?
“Providing food for firefighters in remote locations is already a highly professionalized experience,” says Camille Labchuk, a lawyer and executive director of Animal Justice, an Ottawa-based animal rights organization that will be seeking intervenor status in the human rights complaint to argue veganism is a creed.
“Firefighting agencies are quite used to providing food in these situations. Sure it can be challenging, but they have experience doing so, they’ve typically been able to do so in the past for Adam, for people with religious requirements, for people with allergy requirements. It’s simply part of the job these days of making sure that everyone can eat.”
The public response to the complaint has been encouraging, Labchuk says. “People have a lot of sympathy for someone like Adam, who was out there working 16-hour days fighting fires in harsh conditions, and simply wanted food that he felt that he could eat that’s in accordance with his long-time, decades-old ethical beliefs.”
But it has not been universally positive, she acknowledges. “A lot of people think that human rights protections in general are unnecessary and often go too far. And for them, this is a continuation of that.”
Knauff sought to raise $10,000 through a GoFundMe campaign launched on May 13, but had only made it to $5,377 by early July.
On his recent Alberta deployment, Knauff had no trouble with the food at base camp. His says his meals contained adequate protein and he got along well with the chef and kitchen staff. “It was exactly as it should be,” he says, and markedly different from the experience two years ago that led to the complaint.
Knauff had been working as a forest firefighter for nearly a decade when he was deployed to B.C. in the summer of 2017. When he arrived in Williams Lake on July 15, the city of 10,000 had been evacuated, the province had declared a state of emergency and police were operating the local Tim Hortons to serve emergency workers. The next closest towns were hours away. There was “a shortage of all resources” and everyone was “under a great deal of stress,” Knauff said in his complaint.
Knauff was stationed at a base camp run by Ontario’s Ministry of Natural Resources and Forestry. He worked 14 to 16 hours a day, leading a four-person crew that protected homes and buildings from fire.
From July 16, when he had his first breakfast at base camp, to July 25, when he was sent home, “there were very few well-balanced, complete or non-contaminated meals available to me,” Knauff says in his complaint. He often received food that was not vegan, or meals that were technically vegan but contained no protein. A well-balanced meal with adequate protein is “absolutely essential in order to permit me to perform the physically demanding role of a forest firefighter,” Knauff wrote.
Knauff said he was patient during that first week. He tried to work with the chefs and raised concerns at least five times with a supervisor, who assured him he would work on it, according to the complaint. On the first day, Knauff ate salads and side dishes for dinner. On the second day, he had dry bagels and coffee from Tim Hortons, which he purchased himself. On the third day, he had oatmeal for breakfast but his lunch was not vegan. Logistics staff procured tofu at his request, but Knauff says it never appeared in any of his meals.
Days in, Knauff began to feel “physically ill and mentally groggy,” his complaint says. He tried to push through his “hunger and exhaustion,” sustaining himself on fruit and nuts in his tent.
Things came to a head on July 23, eight days in, when Knauff says he witnessed a cook removing vegan burgers from the grill with the same gloves he’d used moments early to handle raw meat. Knauff recounts his reaction in the complaint: “You can’t f—ing touch the meat and then the veggie stuff!”
Knauff was reprimanded by a supervisor and reminded of the workplace “respect program,” the complaint says. The next day, after receiving a stir-fry with no protein for dinner, he brought the plate to his supervisor’s tent and told him to “fix the f—ing problem.”
“I know that I should not have sworn … but I was starving, exhausted, humiliated and defeated,” he says in his complaint. “I had reached my breaking point.”
Finally, on the morning of July 25, Knauff went through the line to pick up a bagged lunch and received a meal that contained mostly non-vegan items. “I poured the contents out of the bag on to the table in front of the servers and slid each non-vegan item away from the rest of the items saying ‘this isn’t vegan’ to each item,” he wrote in the complaint.
Knauff was sent home. His supervisor told him the suspension was due to his “attitude,” the complaint says, but Knauff later learned he’d been accused of throwing food at people, an allegation he strongly denies.
Knauff is seeking remedies including compensation for lost wages, a letter of apology and the removal of the suspension from his employment record. He is also seeking damages — $75,000 for “pain, suffering and humiliation” as a result of the alleged discrimination, and another $75,000 for the alleged reprisal.
The ministry says he was sent home and suspended for “inappropriate, insubordinate, unprofessional and aggressive behaviour.”
Knauff’s behaviour complicates the case and has generated comments invoking the angry-vegan stereotype — “There is the feeling that Knauff was not the most pleasant to be around,” a National Post columnist wrote — but he says his outbursts came after more than a week of frustration and hunger.
“I wasn’t the best behaved person I could have been and I own that,” he says by phone. “I really wish … that I could have handled all the situations I was put through with my head held high and not swearing and keeping a calm voice. But that is what happened to me physically and mentally after I was eating extremely improperly for days and days, working extremely long hours, dealing with people who were clearly not changing the situation.”
In his complaint, he wrote that “to be treated as if I was merely being ‘difficult’ or fussy was extremely embarrassing for me personally. I felt like it was an attack on my dignity as an individual.
“No one took my ethics seriously and everyone seemed to think that my commitment to veganism was a ‘choice.’ ”
Whether veganism is a choice or not has no bearing on the legal argument for creed status, but the question is a controversial debate between vegans and non-vegans.
The more extreme versions of the argument can rub people the wrong way. “Veganism is not a personal choice,” reads one online explanation from a PETA blogger, “no more than it’s a personal choice to beat children, rape women, or hate people of another race or sexuality.”
Labchuk of Animal Justice, who is herself a vegan, summarizes the no-choice argument in a manner more palatable to the non-vegan majority: “Vegans don’t believe it’s right for them to harm animals simply so they can eat, and that’s a very fundamental belief. It colours every aspect of their lives, everything that they do. So it’s not ‘being difficult.’ It’s not ‘being picky.’ It’s really acting in accordance with their strongly held values. They don’t have any choice but to act in this way because they’re so compelled by what they know about animal suffering.”
Even those who believe it is a choice must admit it’s not a simple one. Adam Knauff hasn’t eaten meat since he was 13, and he stopped consuming all animal products more than 20 years ago. How reasonable would it be to expect him to suck it up and eat a ham sandwich, even in the middle of a wildfire?
“I could never do it,” he says. “I just don’t see it as a food option anymore.”
