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Will the UK ever rejoin the EU? Who is funding Andy Burnham? And will the bedroom tax be scrapped? In a special episode, Kiran Stacey and Peter Walker answer some of your questions
Please keep sending your comments and questions to Pippa and Kiran at politicsweeklyuk@theguardian.com
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© Photograph: WPA/Getty Images
© Photograph: WPA/Getty Images
© Photograph: WPA/Getty Images
As economic circumstances worsen, the PM’s commitments have left him and the chancellor in a tight spot
When Andy Burnham made his first speech after returning as an MP, he promised that as prime minister he would oversee “the most significant change moment in our politics for 40 years”. His style, direction and communication has been a big shift from Keir Starmer’s approach, but as he heads into the autumn, the new prime minister faces some very similar problems.
With an early budget in late October, and worsening economic circumstances, Burnham has made promises and commitments that put him in a tight spot. Here are some of the constraints over the coming months that Burnham and the chancellor, John Healey, must contend with in their autumn budget.
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© Photograph: Annabel Lee-Ellis/PA
© Photograph: Annabel Lee-Ellis/PA
© Photograph: Annabel Lee-Ellis/PA
Popular conceptions of farming tend to associate good animal welfare with environmental virtue — an intuition so strong that researchers have described a “humane halo” effect, where consumers who are told that a farm uses better environmental practices also assume that it treats its animals well. So it might come as a surprise to hear that one way of making eggs better for the planet might be to make life a whole lot worse for the chickens who lay them.
This, anyway, was the apparent upshot of a controversial and widely discussed new paper on the environmental impacts of different egg farming systems. Cage-free, free-range, and organic eggs, it found, are higher in greenhouse gas emissions, land use, and other environmental harms than confining hens in tiny cages.
Consider the implications of that result: At any given moment, more than 8 billion egg-laying hens inhabit farms across the planet. The vast majority of them live in wire cages that severely restrict basic movements like spreading their wings and turning around. They barely have room to move around at all, which can induce depression-like states. “Hens represent the largest population of terrestrial animals housed in cages throughout their lives,” as the new study puts it.
In animal agriculture, there is an unfortunate and well-known trade-off between environmental impact and animal welfare because, all else equal, animals who are allotted a bit more room to roam and express natural behaviors take up more resources. (Of course, that trade-off disappears if we simply replace animal products with plants.) That is why almost all animal products these days are produced on factory farms in the first place — factory farming doesn’t exist merely to be evil, but rather because it’s efficient, and the cost of efficiency is borne by the animals.
Although the new paper may overstate the magnitude of this tension for eggs (more on that in a moment), it’s directionally right: Hens who are able to walk, flap their wings, fly, and perch will eat more calories than those trapped in cages, so their environmental footprint is generally going to be greater.
But here is the thing: That doesn’t really matter.
Eggs aren’t generally singled out by climate experts as a major decarbonization priority. Although animal agriculture is a significant contributor to climate change, making up about 12 to 20 percent of global greenhouse gas emissions, eggs are responsible for a very small share of that — about 3 percent of all livestock emissions. As a back-of-the-envelope estimate, that is, on the high end, roughly 0.6 percent of all emissions. I think we can spend a tiny bit of our carbon budget to spare billions of animals a life of near-total immobilization.
But it’s weird to think about this as an environmental question at all. Chickens aren’t merely resource burdens — they’re inhabitants of our planet who deserve to share in the benefits of a more sustainable future, too. And the most salient feature of caging hens is not that it’s marginally more environmentally optimized, but simply that it’s wrong.
Caging humans would reduce our emissions, too, as Lewis Bollard, managing director for farm animal welfare at the philanthropy Coefficient Giving, grimly remarked about the paper. No one would ever suggest doing that, because a lower carbon footprint cannot turn a morally indefensible practice into a good idea.
Over the last few decades, animal welfare advocates have sought to bring hens some relief from extreme confinement, passing laws that ban cages and persuading grocery stores, restaurant chains, and other food purveyors to source cage-free eggs. (When I was in college, I worked on one of these campaigns, helping convince my school to serve exclusively cage-free eggs in its dining halls.) Nearly half of egg-laying hens in the US and two-thirds of those in the European Union are now raised cage-free, and four-fifths of eggs in the UK come from cage-free hens. But cages still prevail in some high-income countries, including Canada, Japan, South Korea, and Israel.
This advocacy work has spread to low- and middle-income countries, too, where most of the world’s hens live and overwhelmingly remain caged. Cage-free eggs are still far from cruelty-free, but they likely represent a meaningful welfare improvement.
The new paper, published in Royal Society Open Science late last month, used data from the UK to compare the impacts of five different egg farm types: battery cages, slightly larger “enriched” cages, cage-free indoor barns, free range, and organic free range. Fully indoor cage-free systems are by far the most widespread form of cage-free farming in the US and elsewhere in the world, and they’re generally the default large-scale system used in transitions away from cages, so they are our primary focus here.
The researchers compared egg farming systems on four environmental metrics: greenhouse gas emissions, nutrient pollution in waterways, soil acidification, and land use. The lowest impacts across all four categories were found in farms that used enriched cages, which are one-third to two-thirds larger than the standard battery cages that dominate the global egg industry — the latter had the second-lowest impacts. (From an animal welfare perspective, enriched cages are akin to slightly loosening a straitjacket — only a grotesque starting point could make them look generous. They afford each hen a living space not much larger than a sheet of printer paper, well below the area typically needed to perform basic behaviors like flapping her wings and grooming herself.)
To produce the same number of eggs, the study found, cage-free barns emit about 56.1 percent more greenhouse gases than enriched cages and 33.8 percent more than battery cages.
The authors have said that the paper isn’t meant to advocate keeping hens in cages, but rather to inform decision-making about cage-free transitions with accurate estimates of the environmental trade-offs involved. The findings have been presented as relevant to food sustainability discussions globally, more broadly than just in the UK. And, Bollard pointed out to me, the paper has come out as the EU and UK weigh fully banning caged egg production, raising the possibility that its findings could influence those policy fights.
“We recognise that the transition toward cage-free production is important for improving animal welfare,” lead author Oliver Martinić, who recently earned a PhD in animal and food science from the University of Padova, told me in an email. “The long-term goal should be to develop cage-free systems that combine high standards of animal welfare with improved production efficiency and lower environmental impacts. If we can achieve that, the environmental gap between cage-free and caged systems could be substantially reduced.”
It’s certainly important to have an accurate accounting of the environmental impacts of all types of farming. Whether or not the paper achieves that has been a subject of some debate. To make their calculations, the authors drew from data published more than a decade ago, but cage-free egg production has since become more environmentally efficient.
“The paper is methodologically flawed,” Ilias Kyriazakis, a professor at Queen’s University Belfast and senior author of the earlier research whose data the new paper relies on, wrote in a critique of the study. “It relies on our data from 2010 to construct scenarios intended to represent national conditions in 2023, without adequately accounting for the substantial changes that have occurred over that period.” As a result, he added, “the authors are likely to have overestimated some of the impacts” of the non-cage production systems.
The authors have said that they used that dataset because it’s the most comprehensive one available, and Martinić told me that “production systems have continued to evolve, so newer data would be valuable for assessing the extent to which the gap [between caged and cage-free eggs] has changed.” Other peer-reviewed research, meanwhile, has found a smaller gap in climate impacts between caged and cage-free eggs. Even the makeup of hens’ feed may matter more for the climate impact of eggs than whether they’re kept in caged or cage-free housing: One US study found that cage-free farms were lower in emissions and other impacts because they used more environmentally efficient feed.
In the end, these differences may not be that big of a deal because the climate impact of eggs is small in the grand scheme of animal agriculture. Using the new study’s own emissions estimates for eggs, a single beef burger emits as much as about five dozen cage-free eggs.
“There’s no doubt that eggs are the least environmentally impacting animal product per unit,” Kyriazakis told me. So when considering whether caged or cage-free eggs are better for the world, their environmental impact is not very high on the list of things to agonize over.
Martinić and his co-authors don’t ignore animal welfare entirely — they attempt to account for it, but they have an oddly narrow way of doing it. The paper’s welfare metrics leave out what it is actually like for a hen to live inside a cage. Instead, its chosen measures score cage systems more favorably, because the model assumes that they have lower mortality rates, and they require fewer total birds to produce the same number of eggs. The result is that cage farming ends up looking comparatively better on welfare, though the authors themselves acknowledge that their analysis leaves out many indicators of welfare and “should be interpreted with caution.” (Critics of the study have noted that its mortality numbers are more than a decade out of date, and that recently, as egg producers have learned to better manage cage-free farms, the gap in mortality rates has declined.)
There is a term for what happens when we reduce our biggest social problems to environmental or climate ones, and lose sight of everything else at stake: climate reductionism.
The new paper and discourse surrounding it display how that trap can shape the way we understand and treat nonhuman animals. It also reflects a long-established tendency in animal agriculture research to view animal welfare through the lens of efficiency and productivity, rather than through the desires of the animals themselves.
To contend more deeply with the ethics of mass-producing animals like egg-laying hens for food, we have to momentarily cast aside questions about efficiency and ask, what is life like for a hen from her own perspective? I happen to know a lot of chickens — in the right circumstances, they’re convivial, spirited, energetic animals. The widespread myth that they’re stupid has more to do with our own repressed guilt than with the animals’ capacities. Their experiences call on us to face not just the cruelty of cages, but also to look beyond cages to problems common to all forms of egg farming.
To name just a few: Egg-laying hens have been bred to channel their bodily resources into laying extraordinary numbers of eggs, which takes a heavy toll on their bodies, depleting their skeletons of calcium, and making them prone to painful bone fractures and reproductive disorders. (The red junglefowl, the wild animal equivalent of the chicken, lays 10 to 15 eggs per year; farmed hens lay more than 300.) On cage-free farms, meanwhile, escaping the cage does not mean entering anything resembling a natural environment. Rather, the hens live in crowded, polluted, sometimes windowless sheds filled with thousands or tens of thousands of other chickens, where unnaturally large, dense social groups can intensify injurious pecking and other aggression. They are ultimately killed once their productivity wanes.
These conditions have even fueled a vigorous debate in the animal advocacy movement over whether pushing for cage-free eggs is a good idea at all, because they can give the public the false impression that the worst parts of egg factory farming have gone away. But cages are only one part of that system — modern animal agriculture is defined by a complex set of practices optimized to squeeze as much productivity out of animals as possible. Challenging more fundamental features of egg production, like the genetics of modern laying hens, would be harder than eliminating cages because it poses a deeper challenge to the value the industry elevates above all else: efficiency. We would have to demand less of their bodies, and that would very likely make each egg more expensive and more emissions-intensive.
What, then, does that mean for you? On an aggregate, societal level, I think cage-free reforms have been a good thing, because they have made a terrible system that we can’t simply wave away with a magic wand less bad. But more profound change will require consumers to demand something more than cheap animal products. So if I’m addressing you, an individual, I’d say something different. The most obvious win-win is hiding in plain sight: Plant-based foods like tofu and beans are significantly lower in emissions than eggs, while avoiding the moral costs of egg production altogether.
In February, an animal rights group flew a drone over a farm in California that raises calves destined for dairies and cattle ranches. Double D Dairies, the company that owns the farm, is linked to a prominent milk brand that highlights its humane farming practices. But the drone documented a very different reality.
In one part of the drone video, filmed by the group Direct Action Everywhere, employees can be seen kicking calves in the face. In another, they grind hot irons into calves’ skulls, apparently without anesthetics, causing some to thrash and collapse (this procedure is done to prevent horn growth). Many calves were confined in tiny crates.
The ranch fired one of the employees after the investigation was published in the Los Angeles Times. “Animal welfare and safety are incredibly important to us, and we have a zero-tolerance policy for any mistreatment,” the owner wrote to the LA Times over email. When Vox reached the owner for an interview, he declined to comment.
This sort of treatment of farmed animals, it turns out, is far from unusual. Many investigations into the milk and beef industries — along with other livestock sectors — have uncovered similar abuses.
But without drone footage, we probably wouldn’t know about many of them. Drones flown by animal advocates have also captured enormous hog manure pits overflowing during a hurricane, millions of egg-laying hens culled amidst a bird flu outbreak, and a large egg farm that falsely claimed to let its hens roam free when it didn’t.
Over the past decade, as drones have become more affordable and easier to operate, they have become an essential — and impactful — tool for exposing wrongdoing at the factory farms that collectively house billions of animals in the US. But a recently proposed rule by the Trump administration could cut off such drone-powered documentation, making the mere search for this type of animal cruelty illegal — and a huge, largely hidden industry all the more impenetrable. It could also take out eyes in the sky that add visibility into countless other massive industries and facilities across the US.
There are more than 800,000 registered drones in the US, and whether people fly them for fun or for business, they have to follow some basic rules. They must keep them below 400 feet, for example, and avoid flying them near sensitive places like airports, military bases, and federal prisons.
But the types of facilities that are off-limits for unauthorized drone flight could soon balloon to also include a much broader range of places, such as data centers, banks, and wastewater facilities, along with farms and slaughterhouses.
A decade ago, Congress directed the Federal Aviation Administration to develop a system in which businesses deemed vital to US economic and national security could request drone flight restrictions over their property. And in May, the FAA proposed a new rule to do just that.
The public has until Thursday, August 6 to submit comments to the Federal Aviation Administration before it finalizes the rule.
The rule would allow facilities in 16 vaguely defined sectors considered “critical infrastructure” to request drone restrictions, including everything from “financial services;” to “information technology;” to “food and agriculture;” and, broadly, “commercial.”
The likelihood of the proposed rule becoming regulation as it’s currently drafted is unclear, though getting it done is a priority for the Trump administration. In June 2025, the White House issued an executive order calling for the FAA to “promulgate a final rule as soon as practicable.”
The meat industry says the potential new rule would help to protect America’s food supply. They say that, in theory, drones could pose a biosecurity risk; they worry that drone operators could intentionally or inadvertently spread disease from farm to farm. Other objections include the possibility that these small aircraft might distress the animals or that people could spy on farms and gather proprietary information on farm technologies and production practices.
But in its comments to the FAA lies another motivation from these industries: making it harder for activists to document what happens on farms.
“Activists have been deploying drones against animal agriculture, and against hog operations specifically, for well over a decade,” the National Pork Producers Council wrote in a comment to the FAA.
“Poultry operations, in particular, have been targeted by outside groups using drones to capture aerial footage for activist campaigns,” the North Carolina Poultry Federation wrote.
For decades, activists have gone undercover to work at farms and slaughterhouses and covertly film and expose animal cruelty on the ground. Their footage has given millions of Americans a peek into the US meat, milk, and egg industries and has occasionally led to criminal animal cruelty charges, boycotts, and legislative action. Eventually, the industry fought back.
In the 2010s, lawmakers allied with the meat industry proposed bills in around 25 states to make such investigations illegal, and several were passed into law. Critics called them “ag-gag” laws, describing how they gag activists and journalists from exposing animal cruelty and environmental pollution in the agricultural sector. And while a few were struck down in the courts as unconstitutional, several still stand.
In the wake of this investigative crackdown, animal advocates increasingly turned to drones over the past decade to conduct their investigations. It didn’t take long for several heavily agricultural states — including Iowa, Texas, and Kentucky — to restrict drone operators from flying over animal farms.
Drone operator José Elias, who works for SingleStone Media — a nonprofit that reports on how factory farms affect rural communities — told Vox that the FAA’s proposed rule “allows a pathway for factory farms to continue to operate under secrecy.”
The proposed rule also worries Ram Daya, a freelance photojournalist with the group We Animals who, for years, has flown drones over factory farms to capture their enormous scale and intensive confinement of animals. Drone investigations, he said, have helped to expose the vast gulf between “how [farms] portray themselves” — often as humane and sustainable — “versus how they actually operate.”
If enacted, Daya said, the rule would “further hinder the ability of the general public to understand what’s going on in farms and animal industrial facilities.”
He and others said this is part of a larger pattern by governments and industry to stifle farm investigations — a new iteration of “ag-gag” laws.
Beyond factory farms, of course, this proposed regulation could hamper important insights into a huge number of other industries, businesses, and government-run facilities. An environmental journalist, for example, used a drone outfitted with a thermal camera earlier this year to reveal that Elon Musk’s xAI company was illegally using gas to power one of its data centers.
The broad scope of the proposed rule has caught the attention of journalistic and pro-democracy groups, as well, who’ve argued in comments to the FAA that its rule could suppress newsgathering — and that the agency ought to better weigh First Amendment protections in its rulemaking.
“As drones have become an essential tool of modern journalism, restrictions on their use increasingly limit the public’s ability to receive information about newsworthy events,” the National Press Photographers Association wrote. “The FAA should therefore ensure that this rule protects against genuine security threats while preserving journalists’ ability to use drones as a principal means of documenting matters of public concern.”
The group wants the FAA to require drone restriction applicants to be able to demonstrate a specific threat and explain why existing laws are insufficient to deter it; give the public a meaningful opportunity to comment on drone restriction applications; and establish a process for journalists and others to challenge them, among other changes.
Most Americans will never set foot inside a factory farm or slaughterhouse. What little we know about these places has often come from investigators willing to document them. If that work becomes harder, it becomes harder to know where our food comes from. That’s good news for an industry that has long fought against public scrutiny. And bad news for the rest of us — and the billions of animals involved.
A version of this story originally appeared in the Future Perfect newsletter. Sign up here!
Organic chicken costs on average more than twice as much as conventional chicken, and people buy it in part because they believe that the animals are given a much better life.
If you’re one of those people, maybe you envision a small farm where flocks of healthy birds split their time between green pastures and spacious barns. When a chicken gets sick or injured, you might picture a veterinarian tending to them, and if they can’t be saved, they’re humanely euthanized. While the chickens aren’t pets, you’d assume that they’re at least not abused.
These are reasonable expectations, given how organic farming is marketed. And organic chicken certification does, on paper, legally require better animal welfare than conventional rearing: more space, fresh air, outdoor access, and other improvements.
But a new undercover investigation reveals that these expectations may often be far from reality.
Earlier this year, an investigator with the nonprofit Mercy for Animals worked at an organic North Carolina farm that raises chickens for Pilgrim’s Pride, a major supplier of conventional and organic chicken. Pilgrim’s Pride then slaughters the chickens and sells them to Costco and other brands. The farm is also certified as humane by the nonprofit American Humane Society. (Disclosure: I worked at Mercy for Animals prior to joining Vox in 2020.)
During his roughly 2.5-month stint at the farm, the investigator documented unsanitary living conditions, along with severe neglect — like birds with twisted necks and open wounds — and disturbing cases of outright abuse, including the farm manager leaving birds to die slowly in deadpiles, and euthanizing birds by bludgeoning them with PVC pipes and rakes.
“It was every day that the manager would be bludgeoning chickens to death or burying them alive,” the investigator, who goes by the pseudonym Sam due to the covert nature of his work, told me.
But many of those in the industry don’t seem to want to talk about it. The farm could not be reached for comment. Hiland Global Certifications, a certifier of organic foods that audits the farm, declined an interview request for this story and did not respond to detailed questions. Costco didn’t respond to an interview request and detailed questions. Pilgrim’s Pride declined an interview request and didn’t answer specific questions.
In a statement, a spokesperson for Pilgrim’s Pride said that it is “deeply disturbed by the conduct” at the farm, that it has dropped it as a supplier, and that it will initiate additional third-party audits at its supplier farms.
However, when chicken companies — or supermarkets, for that matter — drop farms as suppliers, they shouldn’t expect that whatever farm they supply from instead will be extraordinarily different; such cruelty has been found over and over and over again in the US poultry industry, including numerous past investigations of farms that supply Pilgrim’s Pride.
What’s notable about this new investigation is that it exposes problems within two beloved, and supposedly more ethical, institutions in American life: Costco — with its higher employee wages and stated commitments to progressive causes — and organic farming, which has long been perceived as a more moral sector of the food industry.
The investigation also reveals the immense shortcomings of governmental oversight, corporate animal welfare guidelines, and third-party inspectors, because at each step of the supply chain — from the farm, to the chicken supplier, to the organic certifiers and American Humane Society auditors, and finally, to Costco and other corporate buyers — severe animal cruelty appeared to slip through the cracks.
The USDA launched its organic certification program in the early 2000s, a time when consumers were increasingly hungry for alternatives to America’s highly industrialized food system.
When it comes to crops, organic farms can’t grow genetically modified plants or spray their crops with synthetic fertilizers and pesticides. Organic livestock operations must give their animals organic feed and are also required to give them outdoor access, more barn space, cleaner air, and other higher welfare standards than conventionally raised animals. Euthanasia must also be humane.
The investigated farm at the center of this latest Mercy for Animals investigation has about 100,000 or so live chickens on its premises at any given time, and it does give the birds more room in their barns than a conventional farm.
Among the main welfare requirements in the USDA organic program, though, this was the only one it appeared to follow. Mercy for Animals alleges that it uncovered numerous organic standard violations at the farm, including:
Sam said he documented more than 70 incidences of improper euthanasia, with the farm manager regularly euthanizing sick and injured chickens by bludgeoning them with PVC pipes and rakes. In one instance, the farm manager crushed a bird with a bucket, and in another, slammed a chicken against a wall.
Sam also recorded instances of chickens kicked and thrown. Many birds suffered from severe injuries, like torticollis (twisted neck), leg deformities, and lesions on their bodies and feet, while others were too weak and sick to even stand and walk.
The investigation illustrates that organic and even basic welfare standards are only as good as their enforcement. The USDA requires organic farms to be inspected yearly, which means that for the vast majority of a given year, farms that flout the rules likely won’t have any meaningful repercussions.
A spokesperson with the USDA said it is unable to comment on investigations. “Upholding organic integrity and protecting organic producers and consumers is a core mission of NOP [the National Organic Program],” a spokesperson wrote in a statement to Vox. “Part of that mission includes providing due process under the law and allowing certified organic farms to come into compliance when problems occur.”
Investigations into other organic-certified animal farms have also found organic standard violations and animal neglect and abuse.
The farm is also certified as humane by the nonprofit American Humane Society, which is known to have relatively low standards that are similar to the industry’s own general guidelines. The American Humane Society declined an interview request for this story and didn’t respond to detailed questions. “We have zero tolerance for animal cruelty and abuse,” a spokesperson wrote in a statement to Vox. “We are aware of the video and have launched an independent investigation.”
Mercy for Animals alleges that the farm in question violated several USDA organic standards. But it’s also important to look at what organic standards don’t include in the first place, like more humane slaughter methods and better breeding.
Breeding may sound dull and unimportant, but it’s by far the most pressing welfare issue in chicken farming, including on organic farms. The modern chicken has been bred to have abnormally large breasts, which consumers most prize. That makes it hard for their tiny legs to support their top-heavy bodies, and as a result, many have trouble walking and standing, as Sam documented.
They also grow incredibly fast, which causes some chickens to die prematurely on the farm from painful lung and heart conditions; some die from dehydration or starvation because they can’t stand and walk to reach food and water. Even the president of the World’s Poultry Science Association has acknowledged that chickens’ “existence is painful.”
So many chickens die prematurely on farms that collecting and disposing of them is a primary responsibility for chicken farmhands. “My main job duty was mostly collecting the dead,” Sam told me.
In the wake of these investigations, it’s not uncommon for companies to condemn the cruelty and drop the farm as a supplier. Similarly, many consumers vow to boycott the companies affiliated with an investigated farm.
These instincts are understandable, but they ultimately won’t result in much change for animals. That’s because 80 percent of all chickens in the US are factory-farmed by just 10 companies, they all generally use the same fast-growing chicken breeds and management practices, and most have been investigated only to find cruel treatment and abysmal living conditions.
To reinforce that point, Sam said that what he witnessed wasn’t exclusive to this one farm or meat company but is rather emblematic of the overall industry’s culture: “Every time we go into a [farm], we find the same things; it’s always animal abuse, animal cruelty.”
In a formal complaint, supported by an affidavit with photo and video evidence, Mercy for Animals is demanding the sheriff’s department in Lee County, North Carolina, to investigate and pursue criminal charges against the farm’s manager for animal cruelty and false advertising based on the many documented organic violations. But the organization’s bigger goal is to push large companies like Costco and its competitors to adopt higher animal welfare standards — and make sure they stick to them.
“This isn’t really about one investigation. … It’s about whether companies with enormous influence are willing to take responsibility for the systems that they create,” Arash Yomtobian, president and CEO of Mercy for Animals, told me. “Costco has the power to reduce suffering for more than [an estimated] 250 million chickens annually through proven reforms, like slower-growing breeds and improved living conditions, yet the company continues to choose profit over accountability.”
In 2021, Mercy for Animals released an investigation into Costco’s conventional chicken line that found many of the same welfare problems as the latest investigation. Months later, Costco said it gives its birds a little more space than the industry standard and that it was experimenting in giving birds environmental enrichment. The company didn’t follow the group’s urging to use slower-growing breeds that have less painful existences by way of fewer leg deformities and fractures, and lower rates of metabolic disorders.
Several European countries are moving away from fast-growing chicken breeds, though the US poultry and grocery sectors have largely resisted activist pressure.
Costco says animal welfare is a “moral and ethical obligation.” Pilgrim’s Pride says providing safe and high-quality chicken housing is a priority. The American Humane Society says its standards ensure humane treatment. The USDA says its organic standards strive to align with consumer expectations on animal welfare. These are the nice things companies that sell meat, and the institutions that certify the meat, say. But Sam’s investigation — and more than 200 other ones — prove that reality rarely matches corporate platitudes.
The most foolproof solution to this systemic cruelty is for consumers to simply eat fewer animal products. But animal advocates and organic food proponents have also proposed a number of solutions to reduce animal suffering on farms, which include:
Some groups even want to see the federal government create a dedicated animal welfare agency.
There is no shortage of ideas on the table to reduce animal suffering on farms and bring more integrity to the many “humane” claims on meat, milk, and egg packages. The question is whether lawmakers and regulators have the courage to implement them.
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