As animal activists, we do not have to fear presenting the bare facts.
We don't have to try to sensationalize or exaggerate: the truth is bad enough.
Hope Bohanec (conference organizer): So happy to have Emily Moran Barwick. She is an animal-liberation activist, educator,
writer, artist, and international speaker. And after completing her Masters of Fine Arts,
Emily founded Bite Size Vegan. Emily, it's all you. Thank you.
Thank you so much for having me. It is such an honor to be a part of this conference.
Today I wanted to talk about the importance of language in
activism; specifically covering some of the potential pitfalls, distractions, diversions,
and counterproductive “traps" that we can fall into as activists.
The most dangerous of these are often wrapped in the guise of making veganism more approachable.
In our effort to increase the accessibility of veganism,
we may inadvertently compromise our convictions and soften our ethics—offering gradations of
change, or incremental reductions in animal product consumption, or "humane" alternatives.
Now, this is often born from the belief that we must take either a firm—even
militant and polarizing—or a soft, conciliatory approach to our outreach.
But, this is a this false dichotomy. The real challenge is walking the line
of staying firm in our convictions and uncompromising in our message while still
helping people lower their guard enough to listen, hear, and make the connection.
So, within the vegan movement, a major approach activists take is the social normalization of veganism.
What I mean by this is making a vegan lifestyle accessible, affordable,
easy—even mainstream. And this is a very logical tactic, especially when considering that one of
the strongest deterrents to going vegan is social ostracism and rejection from friends and family.
I am the last person to decry increasing the accessibility of veganism—it is something about
which I am intensely passionate, and is one of the foundational aspects of Bite Size Vegan.
However, in attempting to “bridge the gap” and meet the general public where they’re at,
there exists the risk of reducing the ethical imperative of veganism to a socially acceptable
lifestyle choice. This is why it’s so vital that we be mindful of our language
choices as activist, lest we end up advocating the very things we are fighting against.
So, a very common approach activists take to provide an "entry point" to veganism
is encouraging people to reduce their intake of animal products,
like "Meat-Free Mondays." Such an incremental option is obviously more palatable to non-vegans;
it allows them to make a minor change while still providing the emotional
benefit of doing something good. But it's equally alluring for us activists.
Perhaps we're afraid of coming across as extreme and want to provide a less
intimidating suggestion. Perhaps we ourselves are intimidated to ask for something "so big"
as going fully vegan. Perhaps we believe that any change is better than no change at all.
And while it's understandable for such fears and beliefs to arise,
we must take a step back and recognize their implications. Believing that going fully vegan
is too much to ask simply reinforces that very misconception. Offering gradations of change,
in essence, endorses the idea that there are "acceptable" levels of cruelty.
When I spoke in Dublin, I met Sandra Higgins, the founder of Eden Farmed Animal Sanctuary
in Ireland, who is also a psychologist. I remember her making the rather apt analogy,
saying something along the lines of that if she had a patient who was beating his wife or children,
she would never advise him to try to reduce the frequency of his violence
or stop beating his wife and children on Fridays.
The message has to be that violence is always unacceptable and has to be eradicated.
When we take this approach of "reductionism," we're not only doing a disservice to the animals,
but also to the non-vegans. We're deciding for them that they can't handle the full truth.
We're deciding for them that they can't or won't make the decision to go vegan.
This is similar to the way in which the American Heart Association approached its official dietary
recommendations: the DASH diet, which stands for “Dietary Approaches to Stop Hypertension."
While decades of research have demonstrated that consuming animal products is "highly significantly associated"
with elevated blood pressure, the DASH diet still includes dairy and meat.
In his book "How Not to Die" Dr. Michael Greger explains why this is the case, stating:
"“The reason that the DASH diet was modeled explicitly after vegetarian diets but was not
meat-free itself might surprise you. The primary design goal of the DASH diet was to explicitly
create eating patterns “that would have the blood pressure lowering benefits of a vegetarian diet
yet contain enough animal products to make them palatable to nonvegetarians.…”
[The doctor who chaired the DASH diet committee] had even shown that the more
dairy vegetarians consumed, the higher their blood pressure appeared to rise. But he figured there
was no point in calling for a diet he believed few would follow. This is a recurring theme
in official dietary recommendations. Instead of simply telling you what the science shows
and then letting you make up your own mind, experts patronize the population
by advocating what they think is practical rather than ideal. By making the decision for you,
they undermine those willing to make even greater changes for optimal health.”
In the same way, when we preemptively offer non-vegans gradations of change rather than
the entirety of the truth, we are depriving them of the opportunity—and I believe,
the right—to have all of the facts and make a decision for themselves.
The same holds true for what I believe to be the most insidious pitfall for
activists and non-vegans alike: humane labels and animal welfare regulations.
Humane language and concepts have easily gained a stronghold by appealing to all sides
—for the vegan afraid as coming across as militant, they provide an approachable suggestion to offer;
for activists fighting for animal liberation, they give the possibility of better conditions,
progress towards the ultimate goal; and certainly for the non-vegan, who
now has a way to keep doing what they want to do, but feel good about it.
I've been told it can sound odd coming from an animal rights activist,
but I find that humane labels and animal welfare regulations are often detrimental
to animals. In fact, the entire concept of animal welfare is antithetical to animal rights.
Welfare regulations are designed to spare animals any “unnecessary” suffering—the unspoken
implication being that some suffering is necessary when it benefits humans.
Still, even if animal liberation is the ultimate goal, isn't there value in
improving the conditions for those currently in our systems of exploitation?
While this thought process is understandable, we must again take an honest look at what welfare regulations
actually mean for the beings they are designed to protect.
A striking example of the true impotence of welfare regulations is the battery cage ban within the European Union.
So, in 1999, The Council of the European Union
set a directive that banned all “barren battery cages” by 2012. And while media
coverage at the time focused on the end of battery cages in the EU, what the directive
actually did was replace barren battery cages with “enriched" battery cages—meaning "furnished."
So yes, hens would now be provided more space and given furnishings like
perches and laying nests—certainly an improvement over barren cages. However,
while media reports extolled that hens would now each be afforded 750cm²,
they neglected to clarify that—due to the new furnishings—only 600cm² would be usable.
Now I know it's a lot of numbers, and it's hard to visualize what that means. So,
in the end, that this revolutionary step forward for the rights of
laying hens granted them less than a single playing card of additional space.
Even more maddening: in 2012, over twelve years
after the directive, thirteen Member States had still failed to comply with the ban.
But as the media celebrated the victory for animal welfare, the public ate even more eggs —reassured by their higher standards
—and the individuals this entire charade was supposed to be for remained just as exploited.
The execution of the barren battery cage ban is far from a single failing. In 2001, the EU
outlawed gestation crates. If you're unfamiliar, these are single-sow enclosures constructed of
metal bars and hard flooring, in which mother pigs are confined during their pregnancies.
As always, the ban came with ample fine-print exceptions, and over a decade for implementation.
Twelve years later, nine member states had still failed to comply with the ban.
The most amazing thing about all of this is that
several of the Member States that failed to implement the battery cage and/or the gestation
crate bans are rated amongst the best countries in the world for animal welfare.
So, as alluring as the idea of better conditions for animals may be,
animal welfare legislation is based upon the presumption that we have a right to use non-human
animals for our own purposes. Rather than condemn the breeding, enslavement, mutilation,
and slaughter of sentient beings, welfare legislation simply codifies precisely how
we may breed, enslave, mutilate, and slaughter them.
In 2007, the European Union historically declared
non-human animals legally sentient—deserving freedom from hunger, thirst, discomfort, pain,
injury, disease, fear, distress and mental suffering.
Having recognized their capacity to feel the same emotions and sensations as we do,
the EU proceeded to draft landmark legislation for their humane treatment.
The resulting Council Regulation was—and is—viewed as a victory for animals.
Now, for those of us in countries without regulations,
it's natural to think that the systematic abuse of farmed animals results—at least
in large part—from the total lack of oversight.
In the United States, for example, there are no federal laws governing the treatment of animals in
our food industry. We do have the Animal Welfare Act of 1966, but, like so many welfare acts around
the world, it excludes animals raised for food—as do the majority of state anti-cruelty regulations.
Many US activists and organizations stress the need for regulations to end such atrocities as
routine mutilations without anesthetic, the aceration (meaning the grinding up)
of male chicks in the egg industry, and the blunt-force "euthanasia" of piglets
—often pointing to the European Union as a shining example.
However, within the EU legislation and supplemental documents, those
very same atrocities are not decried, but codified. So, instead of male baby chicks being
ground up alive because there are no regulations to stop it, they are ground up alive because
regulations declare it as the preferred method for male chick disposal. There are even detailed
specifications for blade speed and sharpness to avoid "gumming up" the works of the machine.
We'd like to think that humane regulations are driven by what's best for the animals.
But the animal products industries are—after all—industries; they are profit-driven.
A preliminary report for the European Union's legislation found that while gassing the estimated
"335 million day old male chicks" killed in the EU annually would cost 1.6/1.7 million Euros,
the cost of using "rotating or whirling knives which are mincing the chicks in a split second
...can be considered not to be substantial."
So, the decision had nothing
to do with what was most humane—it was simply a matter of what was cheapest.
The maceration of baby chicks has been exposed time and again in undercover footage,
which brings me to another pitfall I wanted to address:
the presentation of undercover exposes. While I do believe that undercover footage is of vital
importance in the fight for animal liberation, we must be mindful of the framing and presentation.
When it comes to undercover exposes, it’s often what’s not said that’s the most damaging.
Every time undercover footage has captured workers—from one country or another—tossing
live baby chicks into a grinder, news outlets dramatically recount the unbelievable cruelty.
And every time, the public is appalled, outraged,
and disgusted. And every time, they assume that it's an isolated incident of extreme cruelty;
and they continue to eat eggs, confident they're not supporting such brutality.
The most important message of all is left unsaid: that this is
not a barbaric practice isolated to corrupt, abusive facilities or industrialized farms;
that grinding up live babies is a welfare regulation; a worldwide "standard practice."
The fact that the lines between overt abuse and standard industry practice are
so indistinguishable highlights the absurdity
of animal welfarism and human concepts. In my essay "The Harm of Humane" from the
book Vegan Voices, I opened with a specific example of this from my home state in Iowa.
In September 2008, an undercover video documenting routine abuse at an Iowa pig
breeding facility made international news. The footage and investigators' notes captured workers
kicking and beating pregnant pigs with metal objects, sexually violating them with rods;
and they were also shown cutting off the tails and tearing out the testicles
of piglets without anesthetic, and slamming sick or deformed piglets against the ground,
leaving them to die slowly, piled on top of one another in giant bins.
Now, while these acts of cruelty were exposed by vegan activists, the egregiousness
of the abuse rightfully sparked outrage from meat-eating consumers. And the food company
supplied by the farm, Hormel, received over 10,000 calls in two days. In the wire report
issued by the Associated Press, they quoted a Hormel spokesperson who called the abuses
"completely unacceptable"; and they also quoted the farmer,
who emphasized "We condemn these types of acts," and called them "completely intolerable,
reprehensible" vowing to "investigate and initiate corrective action immediately."
So, anyone reading the report would be left with the impression that this was an isolated incident
of overt cruelty, or—at the very worst—a regular occurrence isolated to large "factory farms."
But amidst the catalogued horrors in this article, the troubling implication of a single sentence
was easily overlooked. So, of course, that's what I focused on.
Following the description of the workers' treatment of piglets, the report stated:
"Temple Grandin, a leading animal welfare expert who serves as a consultant to the livestock industry,
said that while those are standard industry practices, the treatment of
the sows on the video was far from it. 'This is atrocious animal abuse,' Grandin said..." (The Associated Press 2008; emphasis added)
To be clear, the treatment of the mother pigs was what Grandin deemed "atrocious animal abuse";
the acts she waved away as "standard industry practices" were the unanaesthetized mutilation of newborn piglets,
and the brutal—and ineffective—slamming of "defective" piglets against the concrete floor.
She was not wrong; not only are these practices legal, they are government-sanctioned methods
within—but not limited to—the United States, Canada, and the European Union.
Within my essay, I implore the reader to ask themself: were you to have watched that video,
heard the piercing screams of the mother pigs and their babies, would you have
spotted the difference between the "atrocious animal abuse" and "standard industry practices"?"
When we fail to explain and emphasize that the horrors depicted
in these videos are not only legal, but actually government-sanctioned, humane-legislation-dictated
practices, we leave the public with the impression that this was the result of
a few malicious, sociopathic workers or poorly regulated facilities. Just a few "bad apples. "
Far from considering veganism, the public is left thinking that
“well, luckily, the perpetrators were exposed and will surely be punished. Thank goodness the eggs, meat,
or dairy that we eat isn't contributing to that kind of abusive behavior.”
Invariably, when horrific acts are exposed to the public, there is a call for stronger
regulations and higher welfare standards. As activists, we can become caught in this
self-perpetuating cycle—believing we're fighting for progress when we're simply running in place.
An example of this cycle is the rise of cage-free eggs. I recently published an article, video and
eCourse on cage-free eggs, which you can find at BiteSizeVegan.org/CageFree.
As always happens when I dive into researching a topic—even one I've previously covered—I find so much new information.
I've stated in several videos and speeches that cage-free hens have been shown to have
twice the mortality rate of battery caged hens. This is a seemingly damning inditement
of the idea that such humane labels as "cage-free" are improvements for animals.
When I began re-researching this statistic, I found that it's far more complicated. After
coming across a meta-analysis that seemed to indicate mortality rates have been on the
decline worldwide in cage-free systems, such that the difference between caged and non-caged hens
is nearly non-existent, I worried that this worked against the point I'd been making in the past.
Something I find so incredibly important in my activism, though, is never
shying away from new information. Even it if seems like it may go against what I’m aiming to say,
it's so important to evaluate and present what's true. And invariably, once I go deeper
into research I find that what may initially seem to be a contradiction,
or even something in support of an agricultural practice
—the underlying reality of anything within the animal products industry cannot help but be problematic.
So, I'd like to take you through my own journey with researching the question
of hen mortality rates in different housing systems—at least in brief.
Laying hens were originally moved into battery cages for a number of reasons,
including profit and management-oriented benefits such as: reduced labor requirements,
greater efficiency of space (meaning more birds housed in the same area),
and lower feed requirements. However, there were also perceived benefits to the hens
themselves, including: a reduction in disease transference, injurious pecking, and cannibalism.
As demand rose for cage-free systems, multiple studies found that the mortality rate in non-cage
systems was higher than in battery cage systems due to those very issues.
Meaning there was an increase in injurious pecking, cannibalism and disease transference.
One of the more comprehensive studies that I'd quoted in the past found that
cage-free hens had 2.5 times higher mortality rates than battery-caged hens.
But, to be clear, that finding was not isolated to that study or even one country.
So, it would seem that cage-free eggs actually result in more deaths than conventional battery cages.
However, in more recent years, researches have pointed out that the reason
for higher mortality rates may not have anything to do with the housing system per se.
Instead, the rates appear more reliably tied to the genetic strain of hens within the facilities,
the experience level of managing staff, and whether flocks are debeaked.
Researchers argue that as producers have become more familiar with managing non-cage systems,
and have started using more "appropriate" breeds, the mortality rates have been on the decline;
and they believe this decline will continue.
Now, at first glance, I was worried I'd been conveying faulty data.
That perhaps decline in mortality rates in non-cage systems was a promising trend in
support of such humane labels as "cage-free." But the more I read, the more I found that,
rather than pointing to reasons for hope, the causes of mortality decline actually highlighted
the reality that within the animal products industries, the solutions are the problems.
What I mean by this is that every time our breeding, confinement, mutilation and
slaughter of non-human animals invariably cause ethical, environmental and health problems,
we strive to solve them with different variations of breeding, confinement, mutilation and slaughter.
We continue this cycle over and over again—addressing
problems of our own creation with solutions that will eventually become our next problem—rather
than stepping back and questioning our use of animals in the first place.
When hens injure and kill one another due to their breeding and living conditions—both of which
have been imposed upon them—the solution is to cut off their beaks and further alter their breeding.
This has happened before in the reverse. In Denmark, laying hens were not moved into cages until 1980.
At the time, the dominant breed of hens was adapted specifically for non-cage systems.
When moved into cages, their mortality rate increased
five times over—the same trend observed when moving hens bred for battery cages into non-cage environments.
The problem isn't really the housing, the label, the stocking density,
or whatever we want to point to: the problem is us and the way in which we relate to these beings.
I also want to note that in all the research I came across about mortality
rates not being down to the housing system, the importance of debeaking hens to reduce
injurious and cannibalistic behavior was strongly emphasized.
Even if using the "appropriate" breed of hen and having more experienced management, whether a flock
was debeaked or not was often the deciding factor in mortality rates. Of course, debeaking is a
painful mutilation in which a portion of a bird's sensitive beaks is cut or burned off.
I found a statement from Ian J.H. Duncan, Professor Emeritus and Emeritus Chair in
Animal Welfare at the University of Guelph, Canada, that illustrates this predicament.
He said: "If [producers] do not trim beaks, then feather pecking
and cannibalism may cause enormous suffering. If they do trim beaks by conventional methods,
the birds will suffer from acute and chronic pain...
Chopping off parts of young animals in order to prevent future welfare problems is a very crude solution."
And he proposed instead that "likely...the long-term solution to this problem will
be a genetic one..." And while certainly less objectionable than debeaking on a visceral level,
genetic manipulation of sentient beings to serve our purposes is not only extremely
ethically problematic, but—once again—what got us into this position in the first place.
When we as activists push for welfare reform, higher standards, better regulations
—we are participating in this cycle. We are participating in a system built upon a faulty and unethical
premise: that animals are ours to use. That there is a right and acceptable way to use them.
That the solution to their suffering is to further control and manipulate their very beings.
So, after covering examples of what not to say in our activism,
I wanted to touch on some approaches of what to say—and how to say it as well as
ways to remove common barriers that arise when speaking with non-vegans.
As activists, we must stay focused on the universal truth underlying any use of sentient
beings: that even if we imagine an idealized small farm, where animals are given ample space
outdoors, their every need cared for—there will still come a time when their life is cut short.
Their entire existence is still based upon an owner-product framework;
their value not viewed as inherent, but rather calculated down to the dollar.
One way of effectively cutting to this core truth for non-vegans is to place it within
a familiar emotional framework. We may have them envision this idealized small farm, but, imagine,
in place of the happy farmed animals, a beloved family pet.
Would it be acceptable to end their pets life?
What if it was guaranteed they wouldn't feel a thing; that it would be quick and humane?
Instantly the unacceptability is clear at a visceral level.
From that connection, we can explore with them what the difference is between a pet and the
sentient beings in the food industry? Do they not also feel pain and fear?
We can even give a specific example: when a mother cow in the dairy industry cries out for
her calf—taken from her so she will produce more milk for humans—is that not a mother grieving?
When she is sexually violated yet again to induce yet another pregnancy and give
birth to yet another child who will yet again be taken —how can that not take an emotional and physical toll?
There's a reason dairy cows' bodies generally give out around age four to five,
despite a natural life span of twenty years or more.
Applying such emotionality to non-human animals is often criticized as anthropomorphic
—an objection that illustrates the contradiction of humane concepts.
Humane regulations are an inherent admission of animals’ ability to suffer and feel pain.
How can we claim that our animals are healthy and happy—then deny they possess
these capacities when asked to see from their perspective? We cannot have it both ways.
This is how profoundly illogical our thinking is when it comes to animals.
Knowing better but doing wrong anyway is worse than having no knowledge. Yet we have the audacity
to hold the legislative recognition of non-human sentience on high as a giant step forward
for the rights of animals, as if systematically exploiting individuals with
fully admitted knowledge and comprehension of their capacity to suffer is something to commend.
Highlighting this faulty logic and focusing on the fundamental truth
we’ve all known since childhood—that it's not okay to hurt others—
cuts through all the convoluted justifications and diversions, allowing people to re-connect with their own values.
As I stated in the opening of this speech,
activists often fall into the trap of offering gradations of change
or "humane" alternatives when seeking a more approachable "entry point" to offer non-vegans.
I’ve long believed that one of the main reasons people don’t go vegan
is the immense pain and guilt of accepting our part in horrific atrocities.
Confronting the true impact of our choices is incredibly daunting, so instead we shut down,
attack, or throw out any number of the standard objections you’ve no doubt heard countless times:
lions, desert islands, what about protein.
It’s human nature to raise our guards when we’re on the defensive—we close off and shut down.
And it would seem logical as activists to avoid upsetting our audience in order to keep their receptivity open
—however, this is a perfect illustrative example of walking the line.
It’s not about making sure not to upset anyone
—if they’re grasping the truth, they should be upset! It’s making sure that the push-back to the truths
we reveal are aimed at their rightful sources, leading to constructive, well-deserved outrage.
When we present them with solid factual information about the industries in an educational setting,
we supply a “buffer” of sorts—providing a target for their outrage other than themselves,
thus sidestepping shut-down and channelling their outrage to action.
I do want to note that this is not an attempt to excuse participation in exploitation.
When I speak to a non-vegan audience, I always tell them that they deserve to know the truth
about what they're putting in their body—about what they're feeding their children.
They deserve to know how what they eat impacts their planet. And that they certainly deserve to know
what they are paying others to do to animals in their name.
Approaching vegan outreach from this perspective helps defuse the "charge" of defensiveness and resistance.
There is no need to pander, sugarcoat, or offer more palatable options.
I simply present them with factual evidence, allowing them to evaluate
whether they want to continue supporting actions out of line with their values.
Another barrier I strive to eliminate in my activism is the issue of trust.
There are many reasons non-vegans may dismiss the vegan message, not the least of which is the messenger.
This is why, when I speak with non-vegans, I am sure to present information put forth by
their own agricultural industries and governmental bodies. This not only helps defuse the potential
defensive charge of some random vegan telling them how bad things are, but it also allows me
to show that even the proposed ideal —which is of course never met—is absolutely horrifying.
This is of particular importance when speaking to audiences in other countries and cross-culturally.
When I spoke in Dubin, Ireland,
I dove deep into the humane legislation of both Ireland and the European Union.
Now, Ireland is a powerful case study—it’s essentially the humane
concept embodied in country form. Cows graze outside in picturesque fields,
lending support to the common refrain that “it’s not like that here.” And by all appearances and accounts, it’s not.
Even after some digging, I only found a single undercover video of abuse.
However, I didn't want to focus on abuse. I wanted to focus on the ideal standards.
I told the audience, “the facts I’ll present today are not of my creation
—I’ve sourced them from primarily Irish governmental and industry documents, the European Union,"
and stated that they didn’t even have to believe me, as I’d be providing a link to a full
transcript of the talk with citations for every fact, a bibliography and additional resources.
This not only provides opportunity for further learning,
but also removes the significant potential barrier
of requiring someone to trust in me personally on issues about which they’re already guarded.
As animal activists, we do not have to fear presenting the bare facts.
We don't have to try to sensationalise or exaggerate:
The truth is bad enough. The ideal—the very best we have to offer—is bad enough.
And more importantly, we do not need to—and should not—
compromise the integrity of our ethics in an effort to make veganism more approachable.
When we do so, we're supporting the very things we are fighting against.
We do not have to fear sharing the truth with others—it's not only vital for the sentient beings
we are defending, but it's also the most respectful approach
for the non-vegan with whom we're speaking. They deserve to know.
And they deserve to make a choice with all the facts at their disposal.
I hope that this has been a helpful exploration of the importance of language in activism.
Thank you so much for having me.
I hope you enjoyed hearing my speech from the Humane Hoax Online Conference.
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