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Rebalancing industrial animal farming cuts emissions, limits disease risk, protects biodiversity, and strengthens food security, reminding us that human, animal, and planetary well-being are inseparable.
Every year, world leaders gather to tackle the climate crisis. They promise to cut emissions, restore forests, and invest in a greener future. Yet one of the most powerful tools for change often goes unmentioned: the food on our plates.
After more than a decade of working in, and with, the United Nations, I’ve learned something crucial: Food sits at the center of everything we are trying to protect—our climate, biodiversity, health, and livelihoods. This year, for the first time, food systems are formally part of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change Conference of Parties (UNFCCC COP30) Action Agenda—a long-overdue recognition of their central role in solving the climate crisis. Still, too often, they remain the missing piece in global climate discussions.
The science is clear. The UN Food and Agriculture Organization (FAO) estimates that food systems—from how we grow and process food to how we transport and waste it—account for about a third of global greenhouse gas emissions.
The message is simple: We cannot fix the climate crisis while ignoring what we eat.
This reality should give us hope. Food offers a solution that is immediate, inclusive, and within reach. Every meal is a chance to make things better.
Plant-rich eating is not a trend or a restriction. It is a climate solution, backed by science and rooted in fairness. Research in Nature shows plant-rich diets produce 75% less climate-heating emissions compared with high-meat diets, while using 75% less land and 54% less water. By eating this way, we can cut global food emissions by nearly one-third, improve public health, and ease the pressure on forests and ecosystems.
As negotiations unfold in Belém, COP30 offers a historic opportunity to embed food systems into the heart of climate policy.
But consumption is only part of the picture. World leaders must change how food is produced. Industrial farming, which relies heavily on deforestation and feed crop production, drives much of the problem. At COP30, hosted in Brazil, President Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva has pledged bold action to protect forests, including a $1 billion commitment to the Tropical Forests Forever Fund. Reducing the expansion of soy and maize for feed—a major driver of deforestation—is essential not only for reducing emissions, but also for helping communities adapt, especially in vulnerable regions.
At Compassion in World Farming, we see this every day in our work with farmers, policymakers, and communities. Agroecological and regenerative practices, such as crop rotation, help restore soils and reduce the need for synthetic fertilizers. They also align with traditional and Indigenous knowledge that works with nature rather than against it.
As a father of a Gen Alpha child, I think about what kind of planet my daughter will inherit. We eat three times a day, every day, and we will do it for the rest of our lives. Our choices shape whether her world is sustainable or fragile.
I have been part of countless UN meetings and summits on climate, food systems, and sustainable development. In the past year, I have witnessed growing momentum across the UN system to integrate food into climate discussions, especially following the UN Food Systems Summit (UNFSS) and the COP28 Declaration on Food and Agriculture’s recommendations. This shift is encouraging and signals the world is ready to treat food systems as central to climate action.
When I look at my daughter’s future, I want to believe that we will have the courage to connect these dots: to see that what we grow and eat is not just personal preference but global policy.
At COP30 in Belém, governments have a chance to change course. To do so, they must:
These shifts must fit local realities. In the Global South, diets, cultural traditions, and nutritional needs vary widely. Supporting plant-rich diets must go hand in hand with respecting local contexts and ensuring food sovereignty.
Reframing food as climate action must include the recognition that human, animal, and planetary health are deeply connected and dependent. Rebalancing industrial animal farming cuts emissions, limits disease risk, protects biodiversity, and strengthens food security, reminding us that human, animal, and planetary well-being are inseparable.
As negotiations unfold in Belém, COP30 offers a historic opportunity to embed food systems into the heart of climate policy—not just as a mitigation tool, but as a pathway for adaptation, resilience, and equity. Global action on food must reflect its true potential: to drive down emissions, regenerate ecosystems, and chart a more sustainable future for everyone.
This is the climate leadership we need: bold, inclusive, and rooted in the principle that climate action begins with what we eat.
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.