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America prides itself on supporting small and local businesses, yet decades of agricultural policy decisions signal nothing but disdain for our small and local farms.
Three years behind schedule, the US House of Representatives passed a Farm Bill last month. Despite thousands of independent, humane farmers sounding the alarm that American livestock production is hurtling toward a breaking point, Congress chose to ignore those voices in favor of propping up corporate profits with more handouts to industrial agriculture.
America prides itself on supporting small and local businesses, yet decades of agricultural policy decisions signal nothing but disdain for our small and local farms. The overwhelming majority of taxpayer dollars in the House Farm Bill will funnel directly into the hands of the largest farms and agricultural corporations, while neglecting the needs of the small, independent producers who make up over 85% of all farms in our country. As a result, since the most recent Farm Bill in 2018, over 158,000 farms have had to close their gates, while shareholder value has skyrocketed for the few meatpacking monopolies that maintain a vertically-integrated vice grip on our nation’s meat supply.
Here’s the real kicker—even with access to the endless handouts industrial agriculture has received for decades, we have an increasingly fragile food system. Far from the safe, abundant, and affordable food supply their taglines promise, the factory farming of animals in confinement systems is responsible for major public health threats, the degradation of our soil and waterways, and the hollowing out of our rural communities. Cancer rates in industrial ag-heavy states are rising at alarming rates, and once-thriving small towns are falling victim to corporate capture.
The House Farm Bill includes a provision that independent farmers have made clear drives meat-packer consolidation and robs us of markets that voters in several states demanded: the “Save Our Bacon” (SOB) Act, which, far from saving any bacon, would further entrench a fragile system that profits from cruel confinement and extreme overcrowding of pigs. When our current food system faces extreme stressors like the pandemic or bird flu, these supply chains break down and supermarket shelves quickly empty of meat, eggs, and dairy products. Meanwhile smaller independent farmers like us who use more humane, resilient practices that prioritize the welfare of animals, people, and the environment are able to continue feeding our communities without disruptions.
The Senate now has the opportunity to right the House’s Farm Bill wrongs, restoring and expanding funding for local and regional food systems, and removing favors to industry lobby groups like the Save Our Bacon Act.
What we know is that consumers are fed up, and no longer buy the tired argument that more humane and healthy farming methods are unrealistic, or that smaller farms can’t feed America. Consumers know that pasture-raised animals are healthier for both themselves and the environment, and that resilient local farms are critical for their communities.
Government policy chooses what food gets to be accessible and which types of farms survive, and we must start making better choices. Expanding investment into independent, local meat processing; ensuring the regulation of dubious and misleading label claims; and increasing fair funding opportunities and access to capital for pasture-based farms are just a handful of commonsense reforms that would help level the playing field. The Senate now has the opportunity to right the House’s Farm Bill wrongs, restoring and expanding funding for local and regional food systems, and removing favors to industry lobby groups like the Save Our Bacon Act.
We already know how to raise healthy animals in more humane, pasture-based systems. That these farms are better for all involved than factory farms is clear to anyone on the ground in farming communities across America. And we believe it would be obvious to legislators in Congress if they took the time to come see them, which is why we have joined with other pasture-based farmers across the country to form the FACE Ag Network (Farmers for Animals, Communities, and the Environment).
We may not have the deep pockets of industrial agriculture interests, but we have power in the real stories of how our farms in Delaware County, Iowa, and St. Helena Parish, Louisiana are feeding our communities and revitalizing our local economies. In a recent letter to House and Senate leadership, we outlined a Farm Bill policy platform that would help uplift thousands of farmers, inviting lawmakers to visit our farms and witness firsthand how pasture-based farming systems are building a more resilient food system. And we have a message for the lawmakers about to decide our future in the Farm Bill:
Agribusiness interests have had their chance to design farm policy, and it isn’t working. It’s time to listen to independent farmers who know what their communities, animals, and land need. It’s time to rethink the way we invest federal dollars, and finally support farms producing the kind of food Americans want and deserve, rather than subsidizing products that actively harm our communities.
We invite you to come stand in our pastures and learn first-hand why backing the farms that produce the most humane, healthy, and high-quality food is the soundest investment you could make in our nation’s food system.
Democrats and Republicans who claim to respect states’ rights should reject this federal power grab and defend the voters, farmers, and small businesses who have already moved forward.
Congress has a choice to make: Protect democracy and states’ rights, or hand a blank check to Big Pork lobbyists who refuse to accept that voters, family farmers, and the marketplace have already moved on.
Buried in the House-passed Farm, Food, and National Security Act of 2026 (Farm Bill) is a provision known as the “Save Our Bacon Act,” a slickly named attempt to wipe out state farm animal welfare laws like California’s Proposition 12. The House passed the farm bill on April 30 by a vote of 224-200, after the Rules Committee blocked a bipartisan amendment that had the votes to pass on the floor that would have stripped the Save Our Bacon language from the bill.
Now the fight moves to the Senate. And every Democrat and Republican who claims to respect states’ rights should be on notice: This provision is not about saving bacon. It is about overriding voters, punishing family farmers who adapted, and using federal power to erase state laws that powerful corporate interests dislike.
Proposition 12 was passed by nearly 63% of California voters in 2018. At its core, the law set a basic standard for certain animal products sold in California, including pork: A mother pig should have enough space to stand up, turn around, and extend her limbs. That is not radical. It is the bare minimum.
The message should be simple: Respect the voters, respect the farmers, respect the courts, and keep this attack on states’ rights out of the Farm Bill.
The pork lobby sued anyway, arguing that California had no right to decide what products could be sold within its own borders. They took that argument all the way to the US Supreme Court—and lost, even before a conservative court. In 2023, the court upheld Prop 12.
That should have been the end of it.
Instead, the National Pork Producers Council (NPPC) and its allies went to Congress and asked lawmakers to do what the courts would not: nullify the will of voters through federal legislation. The Farm Bill is their latest vehicle to pass the Save Our Bacon Act.
Supporters dress this up as a defense of interstate commerce. But let’s be honest about what it really is: a federal override of state decision-making.
That should alarm conservatives who believe Washington should not dictate every policy choice from the top down. It should alarm progressives who believe voters have the right to pass laws protecting animals, consumers, workers, and communities. And it should alarm anyone who thinks Congress should be solving actual problems in the farm bill—not sneaking in special favors for a trade group that lost in court, lost at the ballot box, and is now trying to win through backroom legislative maneuvering.
The irony is that Prop 12 has not caused the collapse its opponents predicted. Pork has remained on California shelves. Major producers have adapted. Nearly all major food companies now offer Prop 12-compliant pork. Many farmers invested in compliant systems and rely on the market that Prop 12 created.
In fact, some of the loudest claims against Prop 12 have aged terribly. The NPPC’s own vice president testified before Congress while describing himself as a fourth-generation hog farmer who produces Prop 12-compliant pork—then argued against the very law he already follows. That contradiction says everything. Compliance is possible. The industry knows it. The marketplace has shown it.
The people who stand to lose from the Save Our Bacon Act are not the multinational corporations that have already adjusted. They are the family farmers who spent money to meet higher standards, the small and mid-sized producers who gained access to premium markets, and the voters whose laws would be wiped away because a lobby did not like the outcome.
This is why opposition to the provision has not fallen neatly along party lines. A bipartisan group led by Rep. Anna Paulina Luna, a Florida Republican, sought to remove the language from the Farm Bill, joined by Republicans and Democrats including Reps. Andrew Garbarino (R-NY), Brian Fitzpatrick (R-Pa.), David Valadao (R-Calif.), Nancy Mace (R-SC), Mike Lawler, (R-NY), and Jeff Van Drew (R-NJ), according to industry reporting.
That bipartisan resistance matters. It shows this is not a left-versus-right issue. It is a question of whether Congress will respect state authority or gut it when a powerful industry lobby complains loudly enough.
For Democrats, the choice should be easy. Prop 12 reflects humane treatment, consumer transparency, and democratic accountability. It was passed by voters and upheld by the courts. A farm bill should not become a vehicle for rolling back animal welfare progress and silencing state-level reform.
For Republicans, the choice should be just as easy—at least for those who mean what they say about states’ rights. If California voters cannot decide that pork sold in California must meet basic animal welfare and food safety standards, then what exactly does “states’ rights” mean? Does it only apply when a state passes laws that corporate lobbyists like?
The Save Our Bacon Act is also a warning shot far beyond animal welfare. If Congress can erase state laws protecting farm animals because they affect interstate commerce, what stops future Congresses from targeting state laws on food safety, environmental protection, public health, labeling, or consumer standards? Opponents have warned that this kind of language could threaten hundreds of state agricultural laws and undermine state and local authority well beyond Prop 12.
That is why lawmakers should strip this language from any final farm bill.
The farm bill should support farmers, strengthen food systems, expand nutrition access, invest in conservation, and build resilience. It should not be hijacked by a narrow industry faction trying to relitigate a Supreme Court loss. And it certainly should not punish the farmers and companies that did the right thing by adapting to higher standards.
Animal welfare progress is real. Across the food system, companies, producers, and consumers are moving toward more humane practices. Cage-free eggs now make up a major and growing share of the market. In pork production, many supply chains have reduced or eliminated gestation stalls. The trend is clear: Extreme confinement is becoming harder to defend and easier to replace.
The progress did not happen by accident. It happened because voters demanded it, farmers built it, companies responded to it, and advocates kept pushing. The Save Our Bacon Act would turn back the clock—not because the system failed, but because it succeeded.
Congress should not reward obstruction. It should not let Big Pork use the farm bill to override voters. And it should not allow a fake “states’ rights” argument to become a federal power grab against the states that actually exercised their rights.
Democrats and Republicans who genuinely believe in democracy, federalism, and fair markets should stand together and reject the Farm Bill if it includes the Save Our Bacon Act language.
The message should be simple: Respect the voters, respect the farmers, respect the courts, and keep this attack on states’ rights out of the Farm Bill. Call your US senators today and tell them to oppose Big Pork’s attack on democracy and oppose any Farm Bill version with the "Save Our Bacon" language included.
Last month, a New York appellate court upheld the city’s ban on the sale of foie gras, ending years of legal obstruction that delayed the will of the City Council and the clear moral instincts of New Yorkers.
At long last, New York City can say goodbye to foie gras from force-fed ducks.
Last month, a New York appellate court upheld the city’s ban on the sale of foie gras, ending years of legal obstruction that delayed the will of the City Council and the clear moral instincts of New Yorkers.
The ruling is a long-overdue victory—not just for ducks and geese subjected to force-feeding, but for the democratic process itself.
Back in 2019, the New York City Council voted overwhelmingly to ban the sale of foie gras, a product made by force-feeding ducks and geese until their livers swell to many times their natural size. Council Member Carlina Rivera, who sponsored the legislation, showed tremendous leadership in bringing the issue forward and building broad support among her colleagues.
No civilized society should tolerate the force-feeding of animals like this. And certainly a city that prides itself on compassion and progress should not allow such products to be sold in its restaurants and markets.
The Council’s message was clear: Extreme animal cruelty and the product of that abuse has no place in New York City.
To understand why, it’s important to understand what foie gras actually is.
On foie gras factory farms, ducks and geese are confined and repeatedly restrained while workers force metal or plastic tubes down their throats. Through those tubes, large quantities of grain are pumped directly into their stomachs several times a day. The process is so aggressive that the animals’ livers swell to as much as 10 times their natural size, leaving them struggling to walk, gasping for breath, and suffering from severe organ damage.
The product that results—marketed as a luxury delicacy—is quite literally diseased liver created through deliberate cruelty.
No civilized society should tolerate the force-feeding of animals like this. And certainly a city that prides itself on compassion and progress should not allow such products to be sold in its restaurants and markets.
That is why the City Council acted.
Yet instead of respecting the overwhelming vote of New York City’s elected representatives, the foie gras industry turned to Gov. Kathy Hochul's administration to defend abuse in the courts. For a time, those efforts succeeded when a lower court overturned the law based on legal arguments that strained common sense.
Fortunately, the appellate court saw through them.
In restoring the ban, the court affirmed a basic principle: Cities have the authority to decide what products belong in their communities. New York City regulates countless aspects of commerce in order to protect public health, safety, and shared values.
Drawing the line at food produced through extreme animal abuse is entirely reasonable.
But there is another troubling part of this story.
Throughout this legal fight, Gov. Hochul’s administration used New Yorkers' taxpayer dollars and the state’s attorneys in ways that helped prolong litigation aimed at undermining New York City’s law. In doing so, the state effectively funded and supported efforts that weakened the democratic decision of our city and supported animal abuse.
New Yorkers deserve better than seeing taxpayer dollars spent defending the foie gras industry.
Now that the appellate court has restored the law, Gov. Hochul should end any further attempts to undermine New York City’s authority to protect animals and reflect the values of its residents.
This victory belongs to many people: to Council Member Rivera for championing the legislation, to the council members who voted overwhelmingly to pass it, Voters For Animal Rights who championed the bill, and to the advocates across the city who fought to expose the cruelty behind foie gras.
Their persistence paid off.
And now New York City can finally say what should have been obvious all along: Force-feeding animals is wrong. And foie gras has no place in our great city. Farewell, foie gras!
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.
Inside the National Pork Producers Council absurd, years-long crusade to kill Prop 12, California’s landmark ballot initiative banning the sale of pork from pigs locked in extreme confinement.
When Patrick Hord, vice president of the National Pork Producers Council, testified before Congress this summer, he proudly described himself as a fourth-generation hog farmer who produces pork fully compliant with California’s Proposition 12. Then, almost in the same breath, he argued against the very law he already follows.
That contradiction captures the absurdity of the National Pork Producers Council (NPPC’s) years-long crusade to kill Prop 12, California’s landmark ballot initiative banning the sale of pork from pigs locked in extreme confinement. Passed by nearly 63% of voters in 2018 and upheld by the US Supreme Court in 2023, Prop 12 is both a democratic mandate and a proven market success. Farmers across the country have adapted to it, retailers have embraced it, and consumers continue to buy pork without complaint. Even giant corporations like Hormel, Tyson, and JBS have quietly moved on.
Yet the NPPC remains stuck, lobbying Congress to pass the so-called “EATS Act” or its rebranded cousins, which would not only overturn Prop 12 but could wipe out hundreds of democratically enacted state laws protecting animal welfare, food safety, public health, environmental safeguards, and consumer rights—undermining both states’ rights and voter-driven initiatives. They’ve fought in the courts, at the ballot box, and in Congress. They’ve lost every time. So the question is worth asking: Who are they even fighting for?
For all the NPPC’s fearmongering, Prop 12 has not devastated farmers. Quite the opposite: It has given them stability, opportunity, and new markets.
Thousands of farms, ranches, and gardens nationwide—including more than 500 hog farms—have publicly urged Congress to reject efforts to undermine Prop 12. Ahead of the Agriculture Committee’s hearing in July, more than 150 producers submitted testimony in support of the law. None of them were invited to testify in person, while 2 of the 6 invited witnesses were NPPC representatives.
Farmers deserve better than a trade group that wastes its energy on obstruction instead of building a stronger, more resilient future.
These farmers describe Prop 12 as a safeguard against corporate consolidation. One Missouri hog farmer called it “one of the best things, economically, that’s happened to us in a very long time.” The mid-size Clemens Food Group declared it is “vehemently opposed” to overturning the law. Others say the NPPC is “out of touch” and “struggling to justify its existence.” Many producers have invested in Prop 12-compliant barns and now rely on the premium market it created. Rolling back the law would directly harm their businesses.
And the NPPC’s doomsday predictions about shortages and skyrocketing prices? They simply never happened. Pork has been on California shelves throughout full enforcement, now over two years. Prices rose only about 9.5% since 2023—less than half the average 19% increase in overall food prices. Consumers barely noticed, except to feel better knowing their purchases align with basic decency.
The NPPC’s argument has collapsed not only among family farmers but also within the industry’s biggest corporations.
Tyson, JBS, and Seaboard all now offer Prop 12-compliant pork. Hormel has been selling it since 2022 and continues to supply California fully. Even Smithfield—despite its CEO’s grumbling about costs while pocketing nearly $15 million a year in salary—announced it would comply and has already converted barns.
Tellingly, none of these companies has publicly supported the NPPC’s EATS Act. They’ve moved on, because Prop 12 has opened a premium market and won the favor of retailers and food-service companies eager to meet consumer demand for crate-free pork. National chains now advertise their compliance as part of their corporate responsibility goals.
Demonstrating how out of touch the NPPC is with its customers, public support for Prop 12 remains strong within California, and a 2022 survey found that 80% of American voters would support a similar law in their state.
In other words: the sky never fell. The industry adapted. Consumers are satisfied. And the companies making billions are quietly profiting from progress.
So why is the NPPC still fighting a battle it has already lost? At this point, its resistance looks less like advocacy and more like sore-losership.
Instead of helping producers secure contracts, access grants, or provide technical resources for optimizing operations under crate-free systems, the NPPC has funneled resources into endless lawsuits, lobbying campaigns, and even gimmicks like handing out free breakfast sandwiches to members of Congress. Imagine if that money had gone into farmer support, research on higher-welfare systems, or strengthening supply chains.
By clinging to pride instead of progress, the NPPC is standing in the way of the very farmers it claims to defend.
Worse, the NPPC’s message insults the very farmers it claims to represent. By insisting compliance is impossible—even while its own vice president complies without issue—the NPPC portrays pork producers as fragile, incapable of meeting basic updates to industry standards. That narrative undermines the credibility of hardworking farmers who have already adapted, and who see Prop 12 as an opportunity, not a threat.
The courts, the voters, the retailers, and even the producers themselves have accepted the law. The only ones still protesting are the NPPC-backed lobbyists. Farmers deserve better than a trade group that wastes its energy on obstruction instead of building a stronger, more resilient future.
There’s a difference between losing and refusing to learn. Learni ng is honorable; doubling down on disproven claims is childish.
So who exactly is the NPPC fighting for?
The only answer left is: themselves.
Prop 12 didn’t destroy the pork industry. It’s making it better, despite NPPC’s refusal to accept the future. What threatens the industry now isn’t higher welfare standards—it’s a lobbying group too stubborn to admit it was wrong. By clinging to pride instead of progress, the NPPC is standing in the way of the very farmers it claims to defend.
As one NPPC spokesman notoriously put it: “So our animals can’t turn around for the 2.5 years that they are in the stalls producing piglets. I don’t know who asked the sow if she wanted to turn around …” I guess we can’t expect much from an industry whose spokesperson says this.
The path forward is clear. Farmers, voters, and customers have already shown that higher standards are not only possible but profitable. The future of farming will be built on resilience, fairness, and humane practices—not on the stale politics of obstruction. It’s time to stop fighting progress and start leading with it.
As UN member states gather in New York to discuss progress on global challenges, it is vital that we bring animals back into the fold.
This month sees United Nations member states gather at the 80th United Nations General Assembly in New York to debate the most important global issues.
Ten years ago, the assembly agreed on a set of 17 Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) to end poverty, protect the planet, and ensure peace and prosperity for all by 2030.
One key accelerator that has been continuously overlooked in the SDGs is animal welfare. Nowhere is this more evident than in how we treat farmed animals and manage our food systems. Industrial systems, where the majority of the around 85 billion land animals farmed for food each year are raised, drive climate change, hunger, pollution, and inequality. Yet, higher-welfare, sustainable practices show how respecting animals can help deliver progress across the SDGs. Unless we take animal welfare seriously, we’ll fall short of achieving sustainability. The systems in which we farm animals are an illustration of this.
At the United Nations Environment Assembly in 2022, member states explicitly acknowledged that “animal welfare can contribute to achieving the Sustainable Development Goals.” So the mandate is there, but what does this actually mean in practice when it comes to specific goals? How does improving animal welfare drive progress on sustainable development, better people’s lives, and support the environment around us?
One of the biggest threats we face is addressed in SDG 13: "Combating Climate Change," a significant contributor to which is the industrial exploitation of animals for food. The Food and Agriculture Organization estimates that animal agriculture contributes 14.5% of human-caused emissions.
Higher animal welfare farming systems offer solutions. Agroecological approaches where animals are integrated into local environments that can provide them with food (i.e. grass), and manage their waste in sustainable, regenerative ways, have greater capacities for carbon sequestration potential compared with industrial animal farming. They are also more resilient to climate change and disasters, thereby supporting mitigation and adaptation.
Without changing our relationship with animals, we have no hope of reaching these ambitious SDGs.
We need to introduce policy solutions that enhance such sustainable agriculture practices, alongside those encouraging the reduction of overconsumption of animal-sourced foods.
Another victim of our intensive animal agricultural system is global food security. There is a misconception that we need to upscale production of animal-sourced foods to feed a growing global population. But this is a fallacy. Evidence from recent decades shows that increased production serves overconsumption. In fact, SDG 2: "Zero Hunger" is out of reach if we continue to squander such vast quantities of human-edible resources on inhumanely farmed animals. A recent study found that fewer than half the calories grown on farms now reach our plates—calories that could be eaten directly by humans. With the World Health Organization (WHO) citing that around 733 million people faced hunger in 2023, feeding crops to humans, instead of animals, should be prioritized if we are serious about achieving food security.
Our exploitation of animals is also a source of air, soil, and water pollution in many regions, addressed in SDG 6: "Clean Water and Sanitation." Overreliance on fertilizers and pesticides in industrial agriculture systems can cause soil and water pollution. Furthermore, air pollutants such as faecal dust, ammonia, and hydrogen sulphide are consequences of intensive systems, all posing human health risks. This comes in contradiction to SDG 3: "Ensure Healthy Lives and Promote Well-Being for All at All Ages."
There are other health impacts to the way we treat animals. Antimicrobial resistance in humans has been named by the WHO as one of the top global public health and development threats, accelerated by the routine use of antimicrobials in intensive animal farming to offset the risks of concentrating excessive numbers in crowded conditions, or to speed up growth for greater profit.
SDG 15 aims to protect life on land, yet globally monitored population sizes of mammals, fish, birds, reptiles, and amphibians have declined an average of 68% between 1970 and 2016. These drastic reductions reveal a broken relationship between humans and the natural world, and show that far too little action has been taken to date.
Agriculture uses half of the world’s habitable land, with animal farming accounting for 77% of globally available farming land. Land-use change, primarily related to animal agriculture, is a huge contributor to biodiversity loss. To prevent the alarming loss of wildlife, habitat destruction, and pollution, we need to protect animals who play critical roles as pollinators, nutrient recyclers, and environmental custodians. We need bees for our food system, forest-dwelling elephants for carbon storage, and beavers building dams to restore wetlands, to name a few examples.
Ultimately, a key driver of the SDGs is the ambitious first goal—to end poverty. But by exploiting animals for food, we are heightening it. The overindustrialization of animal agriculture is lining the pockets of a few global giants, while small-scale farmers are being pushed out. Higher-welfare farming systems can have positive impacts on the livelihoods of smallholders, for many of whom animals are their primary productive asset, creating employment opportunities in the rural economy and reducing poverty. Furthermore, for the many communities who rely on working and other animals for their livelihoods, improving how their animals are cared for will help keep them from the cycle of poverty.
The SDGs provide the blueprint for “peace and prosperity for people and the planet, now and into the future.” This may seem like an insurmountable feat. And it is insurmountable if we carry on as before. What is clear is that, without changing our relationship with animals, we have no hope of reaching these ambitious SDGs.
The way we raise, trade, and consume farmed animals is an example of the nexus between animal welfare and hunger, health, climate change, and poverty. But this is an example. Whether wild, farmed, or companion, animal welfare is a lever for sustainable development. Being kind to animals is not just "a nice to have" but a "need to have" if we want to have any hope of a more prosperous future, for the planet and all who live in it.
I refuse to accept that helping a few baby birds makes me a criminal, let alone a dangerous one.
As I write this, a GPS ankle monitor shows law enforcement exactly where I am. This invasive device has been strapped to my leg for nearly two years. It has come with me to family dinners, to doctors’ appointments, to university classes, and more. I have been forced to wear it in order to remain free pending a criminal trial, which begins next week. I face nearly half a decade in jail.
My trial is expected to last several weeks, though there is no doubt that I did what prosecutors say. My alleged crime? Taking less than $25 worth of chicken. This wouldn’t normally lead to felony charges or a government-monitored GPS tracking device. But, you see, the four chickens I took were alive.
In the city of Petaluma, about an hour north of San Francisco, nestled between a Subway and a Starbucks, lies a heavily guarded fortress. Nearly every night of the week, more than 40,000 live birds are driven through its gates. In the mornings, their deceased and dismembered bodies are wrapped in plastic, decorated with claims about sustainability, animal welfare, and a lack of antibiotics. Finally, they’re stamped with the brand names “Rocky the Free Range Chicken” and “Rosie the Organic Chicken.” By the time their bodies reenter the outside world, shipped to grocery stores like Safeway and Trader Joe’s, the birds have been thoroughly objectified, their suffering repackaged as ethical consumption.
This fortress is the Petaluma Poultry slaughterhouse, a subsidiary of Perdue, one of the nation’s largest poultry producers. In important ways, Perdue’s Petaluma Poultry represents the worst of animal agriculture. Its branding is frighteningly deceptive, the company a master of manipulative marketing. Petaluma Poultry touts the supposed “luxuries” its chickens enjoy, posting seemingly staged videos of birds frolicking in the grass while, in reality, the birds live and die in factory farm conditions. Factory farming is widely known to be horrific, and companies like Petaluma Poultry represent a major obstacle to stopping it: They advertise animal suffering and slaughter as moral goods.
I know how birds at Petaluma live and die because I have been inside its facilities. In 2023, as an investigator with Direct Action Everywhere, I entered multiple Petaluma Poultry facilities. On these factory farms, I found chickens crowded together in filthy barns. One facility had mortality rates more than double the industry standard. Birds were suffering from severe neglect and dying from blood infections caused by multidrug-resistant bacteria. An investigation of the slaughterhouse found similar trends. One night, in April 2023, over 1,000 chickens from one shipment were condemned post-slaughter when workers opened them up and found their bodies full of infection.
Since 1993, Perdue has claimed its chickens “grow up healthy.” Nothing could be further from the truth. Of the multiple facilities I’ve been inside, I haven’t seen a single chicken I’d describe with such a word. Chickens in the meat industry are systemically unhealthy. They’ve been genetically manipulated to grow three times faster and larger than natural. Their legs collapse as they struggle to hold their own weight. Their hearts fail, and their feet develop pressure sores. The poor health of the birds in Petaluma Poultry facilities is exacerbated by their poor housing conditions and lack of medical care.
In court, I will view myself simply as a representative, a body and a voice, for all of the chickens who have been wronged by Perdue, and by the animal agriculture industry as a whole.
Much of what I have documented at Petaluma Poultry’s facilities is criminal animal cruelty in the state of California. However, repeated reports to law enforcement, over multiple years, have not resulted in any enforcement. Haunted by the knowledge of the immense violence within, I entered Perdue’s Petaluma Poultry slaughterhouse on June 13, 2023. Partially disguised as a worker, I stepped into the cool night and approached a truck stacked high with crates crammed full with baby chickens. I rescued four of them, including one I named Poppy, who had an injured toe, a body covered in scratches, and intestines filled with parasites. I got all four birds veterinary care and shared their stories, asking members of the public to join me in calling for immediate action from law enforcement.
The rescue of four little hens finally sparked law enforcement intervention. However, instead of investigating years of reported criminal animal cruelty, law enforcement set off on a mission to gather evidence on what was likely the first act of compassion to be carried out within the slaughterhouse’s carefully constructed walls—and to charge me with crimes.
Months after the rescue, as I was walking toward the Sonoma County Sheriff’s Office to once again file a report of documented animal cruelty at Petaluma Poultry, I was placed in handcuffs and arrested on seven counts of felony conspiracy. I was told about warrants obtained to access my cell-phone data and other records. Though some charges have since been dismissed or consolidated, I still face one felony, three misdemeanors, and nearly five years in jail. I have been forced to wear a GPS ankle monitor and adhere to other harsh pretrial release conditions for nearly two years because the government is afraid I might rescue more birds.
Why? It’s certainly not the monetary value of the birds. The value of a relatively healthy chicken raised in agriculture is only a few dollars, and the routine deaths of thousands before they even reach slaughter is deemed the cost of business. Moreover, there are so many animals in these facilities, it is unlikely anyone would have even noticed four chickens were gone if I had not publicized it. Instead, what is threatening is the idea inherent in my actions: that animals are individuals with lives worth living.
I’m a 23-year-old university student. I’ve been rescuing animals from abuse since the age of 11, when I founded my nonprofit, Happy Hen Animal Sanctuary. In the past, I’ve been able to work with law enforcement. Together, we’ve rescued roosters from illegal cockfighting rings and placed farmed animals in loving forever homes. But now, for saving four chickens, my entire future is at stake.
As I’ve gone to court over the past 20 months, represented by the Animal Activist Legal Defense Project, it has become obvious that the prosecutors are trying to make an example out of me to scare other concerned members of the public. But that’s okay. Let me be an example. Let me be an example of courage in the face of repression and of compassion in the face of violence. Let me be an example of just how impossible it will be to stop the movement for animal rights.
I will not apologize for my actions. I will not hang my head in shame. I refuse to accept that helping a few baby birds makes me a criminal, let alone a dangerous one. To apologize would be to say that Poppy, Ivy, Aster, and Azalea deserved the cruelty inflicted on them. It would be to say they deserved to shiver in a crate, covered in scrapes and bruises, as they were eaten alive by parasites. Any apology would be a lie. I am not sorry I saved their lives.
Next week, I will be taking this case to trial. In court, I will view myself simply as a representative, a body and a voice, for all of the chickens who have been wronged by Perdue, and by the animal agriculture industry as a whole. I will tell the jury about the birds I rescued, and the birds failed by Sonoma County law enforcement.
Chickens are smart, emotional animals; they deserve our respect.
My wife Janet and I started keeping chickens 14 years ago; we currently have four. Since we eat eggs, we figured we should take some responsibility for how those eggs come to us (I went vegetarian at age 20 once I realized the cruelty and suffering involved in producing the hamburgers I devoured). We wanted to see whether we could obtain eggs ethically and in a way that gave us more connection with our food. And, as bird lovers, we wanted to get to know some hens.
Lately, with egg prices soaring, there’s widespread interest in keeping chickens as a way of saving money. That was not our purpose, and raising hens hasn’t lowered our food bills—though they do give us plenty of lovely eggs. We invested in a secure chicken house and a covered run big enough to give our girls space to scratch and dust-bathe when it’s raining (on most days, we let them roam everywhere in our backyard except the vegetable garden, which they would happily destroy if they could). We feed them the best organic chicken feed. And we take them to the vet if required (one of our sweetest hens ever, Silvie, needed a hernia operation, a significant expense; that happened a year ago, and she’s fine now). We haven’t tried to calculate how much each egg costs us, but it’s more than a pittance.
There’s both good and sad to report from our years of living with hens. But we’re still at it and still learning.
One of the biggest payoffs of our hen hobby is the experience of living with alien creatures. Chickens aren’t much like dogs or cats. Birds have brains that are organized differently from mammalian brains, and birds see colors we can’t register. Chickens communicate vocally with about 25 different calls, screams, whines, cackles, purrs, and clucks. Janet and I spend a lot of time trying to understand what our hens are thinking and feeling, and we’ve learned a little about what motivates them.
Food is certainly at or near the top of the list. Chickens display extraordinary enthusiasm for food and are vigorously competitive whenever any treat is on offer. Their motto: Eat fast and ask questions later.
Reproduction sometimes takes top priority in the hen brain. We don’t keep roosters, since we live within city limits and an ordinance forbids them. Nevertheless, we have outlaw neighbors with roosters, and we are reminded daily that the male of the Gallus gallus domesticus species can indeed make a lot of noise. Roosters are required for fertile eggs, but in the absence of males, hens lay anyway. Some of our hens go broody occasionally, spending a couple of weeks sitting in their nest trying to incubate eggs that aren’t there, because we’ve collected them and put them in our refrigerator. Broody hens need special care, as they tend not to eat enough to keep themselves healthy. The hens often squat for us, as they would for a rooster wishing to copulate; when they do, we give them a backrub to partially fulfill their instinctive need—and to take advantage of a receptive moment when we can pet them or pick them up.
In 14 years, we have gotten to know 10 hens and can recall each one (Janet has painted individual portraits of most of them). We’ve witnessed sad deaths, but also beautiful lives.
Curiosity may be proverbially associated with cats, but we’ve found that chickens are perpetually inquisitive. They spend a large portion of each day exploring every corner of our yard, scratching in the dirt and digging holes. What’s down there? Who knows what might turn up?
Cleanliness requires effort. Sometimes chickens and other birds roll around in the dust as a way of discouraging mites and other pests (spa day!); afterward they shake their feathers in satisfaction. Feather maintenance is always a priority, and time must be devoted daily to preening. The versatile and sensitive beak must be cleaned occasionally by carefully wiping it on a hard surface (or our pants). Chickens and humans have very different ideas about cleanliness, but hens do care about it in their own way.
Affection might not be the strongest chicken motivator, but it certainly deserves to be listed. At first, we thought our chickens’ seeming enjoyment of human cuddles was merely a clever way of begging for more food treats. But long-term observation has shown us that some hens are just as affectionate as any dog or cat, and that food is not a strategic goal of cuddles. One of our hens, Lulu (more about her below) demands at least one cuddling session every day, and will sit in your lap for half an hour or more, soaking up love and offering all the hugs she can give, considering that she has wings rather than arms. Silvie is a cuddler too, but less demanding in that regard than Lulu. The hens’ affection for one another is a little more complicated, as we’re about to see.

Chickens are highly social creatures and instinctively establish a pecking order: One hen occasionally pecks others on the back of the head (often when everyone is eating) to show her dominance.
Lulu is at the top of the social ladder, and she’s a big, loud, confident hen. Friends have asked us whether chickens have individual personalities; the best answer is an introduction to Lulu. She is bossy around the other hens and demanding toward us. If she wants treats or cuddles, she lets us know by screaming—sometimes for minutes at a time—and, unfortunately, she’s as loud as any rooster. Being the top hen comes with perks, but duties as well. It’s up to Lulu to keep social order, watch for danger, and manage relations with the humans.
Stella and Sparrow—of rare designer breeds, while Lulu and Silvie are Orpingtons—are smaller, lower in the order, and relatively quieter and more skittish. Whenever Lulu is close by, they must be wary of a peck. But they’re not constantly bullied and seem to be happy, well-adjusted hens. They know the order and get their needs met within it. Sparrow is a cute comedian, always evoking chuckles from us humans. Stella is a self-reliant, industrious, elegant loner; she’s the smallest of our hens and has a scratchy voice but lays big pastel green eggs.
Some of our clearest insights into chicken social behavior come at dusk, as the hens enter their house and choose a spot on the perch. Who gets to sleep where, and next to whom? The lineup is different every night, and each night there are several tense minutes of jockeying. Sparrow seems to love snuggling up against big, fluffy Lulu, despite the prospect of a peck. Stella likes ascending the henhouse ladder last, and, though low in the hierarchy, usually gets her choice of sleeping spot. Always-agreeable Silvie (our vet called her “a very personable chicken”) just takes whatever space is available.

I’ve been astounded to learn the degree to which chicken evolution has been hijacked by humans. Genes matter, and for thousands of years people have been wittingly or unwittingly selecting chickens for humanly desirable traits.
Often, chickens pay a price. Humans want eggs; so, they breed hens that lay up to 300 of them a year—an astonishing feat. Laying an egg is no small matter. It literally takes a lot out of you. While wild relatives of the domestic chicken can live 20 years, most commercial hens live short lives, often (when they’re not killed for meat) perishing after 2 to 5 years. And while they’re pumping out those eggs, they can easily suffer from nutritional deficiencies and bone problems.
People have also bred chickens for size, feather and egg color, and behavior (I’ll refrain from discussing the commercial chicken meat industry, which has its own breeding priorities). Indeed, breeding has created more extreme varieties of chicken than of any other animal species except Canis lupus familiaris (dog). All our most affectionate hens have been Orpingtons of one sort or another: no accident, as most Orpingtons tend to be friendly.
Is it right for one species to interfere so much with the evolution of another? Not many humans seem interested in entertaining the question. One could conclude that chickens have benefitted from their relationship with people: Gallus gallus is by far the most numerous bird species (there are nearly 30 billion of them). So, humans have contributed to chickens’ evolutionary success. But that success depends entirely on chickens’ continued utility to a capricious ape whose overall activities are wrecking the biosphere. My advice: If you love feathered creatures, keeping chickens can teach you a lot about them, but you’ll do far more for this broad class of animals by creating or restoring habitat for wild birds.
In 14 years, we have gotten to know 10 hens and can recall each one (Janet has painted individual portraits of most of them). We’ve witnessed sad deaths, but also beautiful lives. Chickens are smart, emotional animals. They can decimate local insect populations, but they are resilient and courageous. They deserve our respect.
Oh, did I mention the poop? There’s lots of it. Everywhere. Every day. It’s good for the compost pile and the garden.
Recommended reading:
Andrew Lawler, Why the Chicken Crossed the World
Sy Montgomery, What the Chicken Knows
Melissa Coughey, How to Speak Chicken
Theodore Xenophon Barber, The Human Nature of Birds
Gail Damerow, Storey’s Guide to Raising Chickens
Page Smith and Charles Daniel, The Chicken Book
Alice Walker, The Chicken Chronicles
Joseph Barber, The Chicken: A Natural History
Clea Danaan, The Way of the Hen: Zen and the Art of Raising Chickens