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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Now go live vegan, and I'll see you soon.