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The EU talks a good game, but rhetoric alone is not enough. The ratification delay is a golden opportunity for reflection and to strengthen standards.
Gestation crates are metal cages, typically no bigger than 7 feet by 2 feet, used to contain female pigs—known as sows—for most of their breeding lives. The crates are so small that their inhabitants cannot walk or even turn around. Natural behaviors such as rummaging, fetching food, nesting, and grazing are all denied to them.
Without question they are among the cruelest fixtures in the meat industry. Many countries in the Western world, including the European Union, have either banned or significantly restricted their use. The European Commission plans to phase them out entirely by 2027. A recent landmark piece of legislation, however, threatens to undo this critical progress.
The EU-Mercosur (Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay, and Uruguay) Agreement, signed to great fanfare on January 17, 2026, has been heralded as both historic and ambitious. Less discussed, however, is what the agreement could mean for animal welfare protections in both hemispheres.
The EU may be home to some of the highest animal welfare standards of any government in the world, but the same cannot be said for Mercosur, where millions of sows are still confined to gestation crates for long periods of time.
Unless safeguards are put in place, this trade agreement risks reversing the EU's progress on deforestation altogether.
Sinergia Animal, the international animal protection organisation whose Brazilian operations I lead, publishes a yearly report called Pigs in Focus, which ranks major Brazilian producers on their animal welfare standards. Despite being the country’s fourth-largest pork processor and a major dairy company, Frimesa has still not committed to ban crates for sows. Farrowing cages and battery cages for chickens remain widespread too. We have been negotiating with them for years, and despite their competitors making meaningful progress, they are still dragging their heels on making even basic improvements.
The problem does not stop with Frimesa. Minerva Foods, one of the leading meat producers in South America and a major supplier of pork products globally, continues to cause immense suffering. Ear notching, teeth clipping, and tail docking, as well as the routine misuse of antimicrobials, are all common. Again, while commitments to phase out these techniques have been made, our research exposes the use of excessively long deadlines that serve to prolong animal suffering.
These are not exceptional, isolated cases. They represent a wider system across Mercosur countries—one that may end up supplying significantly more of the meat consumed in the EU.
This raises serious questions about the EU’s commitment to animal welfare standards, which is why the European Parliament’s decision in late January to request a legal opinion from the Court of Justice of the European Union (CJEU) on the agreement’s conformity with the EU treaties, thereby halting the ratification process, is a welcome one.
The review could take up to two years, which gives EU policymakers more than enough time to revisit the issue of animal welfare and mitigate against the new incentive structures now in place for Mercosur producers.
It would, however, be a mistake to assume that greater attention should be paid to animal welfare protections alone. After all, lower standards mean higher yields. In Argentina and Uruguay, 89% and 88% of eggs come from hens kept in battery or enriched cages. In Brazil the figure is 95%. In the EU, by comparison, 38% of hens are still kept in cages—something seen as too high but will nonetheless put European producers at a significant competitive disadvantage.
An increase in demand for meat will also magnify pressure on vital ecosystems. As demand for land and animal feed goes up, so too will the rate of deforestation. The resultant loss of habitat will accelerate biodiversity decline, threatening ecosystems that are a key natural defense against climate change.
These developments cannot be divorced from the geopolitics of the climate crisis. With the US having reneged on its international climate commitments, the pressure is on the EU to at least partially fill the leadership void. So far they are failing, with initiatives such as the Deforestation Regulation and electric vehicle mandate either abandoned or reduced in ambition. Unless safeguards are put in place, this trade agreement risks reversing the EU's progress on deforestation altogether.
So what can the EU do? At a minimum, Brussels must demand that meat produced under unacceptably low standards is not imported to the EU. However, equally important is that Mercosur countries are still able to benefit economically from the agreement by retaining access to the EU market. This means pushing for Mercosur countries to eliminate battery cages and sow stalls, ban mutilations without pain relief, enrich spaces, and meaningfully improve handling standards.
The EU talks a good game, but rhetoric alone is not enough. The ratification delay is a golden opportunity for reflection and to strengthen standards. Political leaders have been right to label the agreement as historic, but unless robust protections are put in place, it may well be remembered for all the wrong reasons.
Secretary Rollins praises American farmers’ independence while advancing policies that strip them of market protections and empower their largest competitors.
Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins, in her recent USA Today and Newsweek opinion pieces, has worked hard to present herself as a champion of American farmers and a steward of healthier food options. Alongside Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., she spoke of the values these farmers embody—independence, grit, patriotism—and celebrated a $700 million regenerative agriculture initiative as proof that this administration is delivering for rural America.
But if you pull back the curtain on Secretary Rollins and the US Department of Agriculture (USDA), the narrative changes. What looks like a bold vision for “regeneration” quickly reveals itself as a political performance designed to distract from the USDA’s business-as-usual that props up industrial agriculture, not family farmers.
Secretary Rollins held up Alexandre Family Farm as the face of America’s regenerative future. But the truth: The farm is under scrutiny for animal abuse so severe it stands in direct contradiction to everything regenerative agriculture represents.
A USDA investigation obtained through the Freedom of Information Act documented multiple violations of organic and animal-welfare standards. The company has since admitted to serious abuses—including cows dragged with machinery, horn-tipping without pain relief, a teat cut off an animal with mastitis, diesel poured on animals, and animals dying after being left without adequate feed and care. No amount of marketing can turn that into regeneration. It is factory farming with better lighting.
A healthy America requires new, bold regenerative policies, not branding.
Choosing that farm as the model for USDA’s regenerative agenda signals to large industrial livestock companies that even amid serious animal cruelty, the USDA will still hand them a spotlight—and, in many cases, more public dollars. It also sends a message to the farmers Secretary Rollins claims to represent: Their government will not reward those who do the hard, unglamorous work of true regenerative agriculture. Instead, it will reward those who invest in scale, branding, and access, not better practices.
Secretary Rollins frequently praised states as “laboratories of innovation,” a sentiment that should have encouraged rural communities. Yet she is pushing the EATS Act and its twin, the Save Our Bacon Act—federal preemption bills that would wipe out states’ ability to regulate for safer, healthier, and more humane agricultural products sold within their borders. Notably, EATS and SOBA face bipartisan opposition from more than 200 senators and representatives in Congress.
You cannot celebrate state innovation while trying to make it illegal.
Backed by the factory-farm-aligned National Pork Producers Council, both bills would undermine more than 1,000 state health, safety, and animal-welfare laws. These bills would give the largest global agribusinesses the power to override local standards and flood American markets with cheap, low-welfare meat. And they would directly undercut the regenerative and higher-welfare family farms she claims to support.
The USDA’s $700 million regenerative package reveals the same pattern. In reality, it is a drop in the bucket. For decades, federal policy has pumped tens of billions of dollars into the nation’s largest factory farms. From 2018 to 2023 alone, the top 10,000 livestock feeding operations—mostly CAFOs—captured more than $12 billion in federal aid. The largest 10% of producers now take nearly 80% of subsidies, while small and midsize farms receive nothing.
Secretary Rollins knows this—yet her policies do nothing to change it.
The contradiction is glaring: She praises American farmers’ independence while advancing policies that strip them of market protections and empower their largest competitors. She leads an agency that celebrates rural resilience while continuing to concentrate power and resources in the hands of giant corporations.
True regenerative agriculture—the kind practiced by real farm families—requires pasture, biodiversity, humane animal treatment, and a financial landscape where independent farmers can survive. But these farmers are forced to compete against industrial operations that are more heavily subsidized and are now welcomed to call themselves “regenerative” regardless of their animal handling and herd-management practices.
Across the United States, regenerative ranchers, pasture-based dairies, higher-welfare hog farmers, and diversified small producers are already showing what a healthier and more resilient US food system can look like. Consumers want this shift. States are supporting it. Rural communities depend on it. Yet the USDA continues to position factory farming as the American standard—and now as the regenerative standard.
If this administration truly wants to protect American farmers, the path forward is clear.
Stop calling industrial operations regenerative when they are not. Stop pushing federal legislation that handcuffs states and abandons small producers. Stop directing billions toward industrial livestock giants while offering pennies to the people doing the real work of regeneration. And start listening—to independent farmers fighting consolidation, rural communities bearing the cost of industrial expansion, and consumers demanding humane treatment of animals.
A healthy America requires new, bold regenerative policies, not branding. We welcome Secretary Rollins to bring forward those types of policies.
Changing your diet isn’t the only way to help tackle factory farming; instead, you can donate to charities working to make a difference.
As holiday dishes parade across dining tables nationwide, there’s one question we often try to avoid: Where did my food actually come from?
Every holiday season, Americans consume millions of turkeys, hams, and other festive fare. The uncomfortable reality is that about 99% of the meat in the US comes from factory farms: industrial facilities with crowded conditions, which pollute the environment and push traditional farms out of business.
But this isn’t what we want to think about when we’re celebrating. And we certainly don’t want to swap turkey for tofu.
Here’s the good news: Changing your diet isn’t the only way to help tackle factory farming, and it probably isn’t even the best way. Instead, you can keep eating meat and donate to "offset" your impact. Think of carbon offsets, not just for the climate, but for animal welfare as well.
The meat industry would love us to debate individual food choices endlessly rather than examine the system they’ve created.
This is because some of the charities working to change factory farming are so good at what they do that it really doesn’t cost much to make a big difference. In fact, it would cost the average American about $23 a month to do as much good for animals and the planet as going vegan. Even with all the trimmings, Thanksgiving dinner costs you less than a dollar to offset.
Despite campaigns like Meatless Mondays and Veganuary, meat eating is still on the rise globally. About 5% of US adults identify as vegan or vegetarian, and for years that number has remained stagnant. The "diet change strategy" just isn’t moving us in the right direction.
On the other hand, charities have made huge gains in improving the lives of farm animals and pushing for a more sustainable food system. Groups such as The Humane League, or THL, have pressured major food companies to eliminate cruel practices, like confining egg-laying hens in cages too small to spread their wings. Thanks to THL and others, 40% of US hens are now cage-free, up from just 4% when they started.
But is it hypocritical to keep eating meat and pay a bit of money to feel less guilty?
Not necessarily, if the goal is to make a genuine difference.
In fact, emphasis on individual action has often held movements back. In the early 2000s, one of the biggest promoters of the "carbon footprint"—the idea of measuring and reducing your personal impact on global warming—was the oil giant BP. Shifting the focus from the role of big business to consumer choice plays into the hands of the world’s biggest polluters. In the same way, the meat industry would love us to debate individual food choices endlessly rather than examine the system they’ve created.
Instead, we need systemic change: supporting organizations that push for better regulations, fighting harmful agricultural subsidies, and holding companies accountable for their practices.
Most importantly, writing a check is a much easier ask than changing your entire diet, which means more people will actually help. We know people are willing to give their money to animal causes: About 12% of Americans do it, more than twice as many people as are vegetarian or vegan.
Right now, billions of animals are suffering in factory farms while we argue about what’s on our plates. The fastest path to ending their suffering isn’t waiting for everyone to go vegan: It just needs enough of us to put our money where our mouth is.