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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!
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.
The world has lost one of the best of us. The animals have lost one of their greatest allies to have ever lived. We in the humane education movement have lost a groundbreaking advocate, and, for so many of us, a role model.
When I was a child growing up in the 60s and 70s, watching National Geographic specials on TV, I wanted to be Jane Goodall. Not like her. Her. I could imagine no better life than observing and learning about chimpanzees.
But only Jane Goodall could be Jane Goodall, and I eventually fell into a more traditional path, even going to law school. That didn’t last long. I dropped out by Thanksgiving; read a book by a scientist who taught a chimp named Sarah to communicate through symbolic language; and, with Jane Goodall in mind, went to volunteer in his lab.
When I got there, I was introduced to Sarah. She was isolated in an enclosure, no longer willing to participate in language studies, and prone to temper tantrums. I was advised to keep my distance. The next day, I visited her by myself and felt moved to twirl my finger in the air and say: “Turn around, and I’ll scratch your back.” Sure enough, Sarah turned around, sank down to the floor, and pressed her back against the bars of the cage so I could do so.
“What would Jane think?” I asked myself. I imagined that she would be both angry and heartbroken if she could witness Sarah’s diminished and miserable life. I left that lab a few weeks later. Shortly after that, I discovered my life’s work: humane education.
Most of all, she left us hope, something she talked about frequently, reminding us that hope is generated by our individual and collective acts of positive change.
Little did I know that Jane was about to leave her scientific career behind to be a humane educator herself, realizing with such profound resolve that she needed to try to protect chimps and other animals, vulnerable human communities, and the ecosystems that sustain us all, and the best way to do this was through education. She created Roots and Shoots, a humane education program that has impacted millions of children across the globe. Then she went on to become the most famous, respected, and influential humane educator in the world. Most people probably wouldn’t know to use the term humane educator in association with her. The New York Times’ remembrances of her in the past twenty-four hours didn’t use it, but humane education is exactly what she spent the last half-century of her life doing.
Jane Goodall traveled approximately 300 days out of the year, tirelessly teaching about how we can build a humane, regenerative, peaceable world for animals, people, and the environment. She was on a speaking tour when she died on Oct. 1, 2025, at the age of 91. She was brilliant, kind, funny, and dedicated beyond measure to the work of teaching and spreading a message of compassion in action.
I got to meet Jane a couple of times and speak alongside her, including on the same keynote stage at a humane education conference that the Institute for Humane Education co-led with Roots and Shoots and HEART. Jane’s blurb of my book The World Becomes What We Teach: Educating a Generation of Solutionaries is the primary reason the book became a #1 best seller on Amazon in the philosophy and social aspects of education, and it was among the greatest honors of my life that she wrote the foreword to my recent book, The Solutionary Way. She shared an essay I wrote on her social media, garnering tens of thousands of views. For all I know, you may be reading this because Jane propelled our humane education work forward.
It was a dream come true that I got to publicly share with Jane and the world just how much she meant to me. Apple TV+ launched its programming with the “Dear…” series, highlighting global icons through the people they’d influenced. “Dear Jane” was episode seven, and I was one of those people. I got to tell Jane just how much she had meant to me and how she had shaped my life. I got to thank her.
The world has lost one of the best of us. The animals have lost one of their greatest allies to have ever lived. We in the humane education movement have lost a groundbreaking advocate, and, for so many of us, a role model. But Jane left us everything we need to carry on her legacy. She left us Roots and Shoots, a humane education program any of us can implement; countless videos to learn from; books and stories to read and put into practice in our lives and to spread through our own efforts as humane educators and changemakers. Most of all, she left us hope, something she talked about frequently, reminding us that hope is generated by our individual and collective acts of positive change.
Jane once wrote: “You cannot get through a single day without having an impact on the world around you. What you do makes a difference, and you have to decide what kind of difference you want to make.”
Millions have been impacted by Jane Goodall. Countless people have experienced the joy and honor of hearing her speak and meeting her, and they have their own stories to tell about how she affected them. I hope we’ll all tell our stories. And if Jane Goodall impacted you; if you are heartbroken about her passing, I hope you’ll ask yourself what kind of difference you want to make and then go make that difference. Imagine the world we could create if we all did that.