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animal rights
The Big Apple Finally Bids Farewell to Foie Gras
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.
Apr 04, 2026
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!
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Big Pork Lobby’s War on Farmers, Consumers, and Democracy
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.
Oct 03, 2025
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?
Prop 12: A Win for Farmers and Consumers
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.
It’s Time to Move Forward
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.
Farmers Deserve Better
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.
NPPC’s Pride Over Progress
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?
- Not farmers—they’ve embraced Prop 12 as a market advantage.
- Not voters—they passed Prop 12 in a landslide and still support it.
- Not customers—they welcome the shift to higher standards.
- Not retailers, courts, or the country—every one of whom has accepted the law.
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.
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Remembering Jane Goodall, Who Taught the World How to Be More Humane
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.
Oct 03, 2025
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.
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I Rescued 4 Chickens From Abuse; Now I’m the One Facing a Felony Trial
I refuse to accept that helping a few baby birds makes me a criminal, let alone a dangerous one.
Sep 09, 2025
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.
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With Bird Flu, Our Factory Farmed Chickens Have Come Home to Roost
It was only a matter of time before the horrific and unjust conditions in the animal agriculture system became the proving ground for a pathogen capable of igniting a dangerous pandemic. Now our luck may have run out.
Mar 15, 2025
In Albert Camus’ novel, The Plague, set in the French Algerian town of Oran, rats one day begin showing up dead on residents’ doorsteps, dying with violent spasms and blood pouring from their mouths.
At first, the rats’ death agonies are only a curiosity to the townspeople. But then the rats begin dying in greater numbers, their corpses piling up in the streets. “The staircase from the cellar to the attics was strewn with dead rats, 10 or a dozen of them. The garbage bins of all the houses in the street were full of rats.”
When Dr. Rieux, a physician, remarks upon the strange phenomenon to his mother, she replies vaguely, “It’s like that sometimes.”
The avian flu threat, however, has now given us an opportunity to rethink our existential and ethical relations with the other animals of our planet, and to recognize how closely our fates are bound together.
By the time Rieux realizes what is happening, it is too late. Bubonic plague has come to Oran. Soon it is the townspeople themselves who are dying in agony, their bodies heaping up in mounds—like the rats whose suffering, and fates, they had only days before viewed with indifference...
Lately, I have been thinking of Camus’ novel, as we ourselves teeter on the brink of a new deadly plague—avian flu. Like the people in the story, we too have remained indifferent to the suffering, and shared collective fate, of our fellow creatures. And we continue to do so at our own peril.
For more than a year, I have followed news reports of the H5N1 virus that causes bird flu, or highly pathogenic avian influenza, as it has torn across the world, infecting hundreds of species and killing millions of animals, from storks and snowy owls to cranes and harbor seals, from foxes and herons to finches and lions. Geese have fallen from the skies dead over Kansas City. House cats have died from violent seizures in Iceland and Texas. The virus has decimated colonies of Adélie penguins in Antarctica, wiped out albatross fledglings on the remote South African island of Marion, killed dolphins and manatees off the Florida coast.
Never have scientists seen a virus infect so many species all at once, nor spread so quickly or with such devastating effect. It is the first observed panzootic—a pandemic of “all” animals. Researchers are now calling avian flu an “existential threat” to planetary biodiversity.
While droves of our fellow beings were dying in agony in far-away places, however, few people seemed to notice or care. Even today, we resist acknowledging our own role in the catastrophe—the fact that it is we ourselves, by imprisoning billions of animals in the food system, then allowing the virus to run rampant inside it, who have turned H5N1 into a trans-species bioweapon. And now that bioweapon is turning toward us.
While the H5N1 virus is naturally occurring, it emerged as a global problem only when it became concentrated in the Asian poultry industry in the late 1990s. Farmers at the time killed hundreds of millions of chickens and other birds to try to contain the virus—in many cases, by burying them alive or setting them on fire. Since then, H5N1 has resurfaced again and again on animal farms, leading to the deaths of poultry and humans alike.
For years, epidemiologists have warned that the animal agriculture system was a time bomb waiting to go off. Most of the deadly diseases ever to have afflicted our own species, including cholera, smallpox, measles, tuberculosis, AIDS, and influenza, have been caused by our exploitation of animals for food. Today, three-quarters of all emerging infectious diseases are in fact zoonotic in origin—a consequence chiefly of the modern animal food system.
That system has increased our vulnerability to animal-borne diseases in two ways. First, raising cattle and other ruminants for slaughter requires staggering anounts of land, which destroys animal habitat and crowds species together, thus enabling viruses to find new hosts who lack natural immunity to them. (More than half the surface of the Earth has been turned into farmland, and 80% of that is devoted to raising animals for slaughter.) Second, we have created a permanent source of new plagues by concentrating sick and traumatized animals together in industrialized conditions.
Even with a vaccine, Americans can expect little help from their government should a bird flu pandemic materialize, since President Donald Trump is eviscerating the federal agencies responsible for public health and disease prevention.
Few people are aware of the sheer scale of the global animal food system. But each year, 80,000,000,000 land animals and up to 2,700,000,000,000 marine animals die violently to satisfy growing human demand for animal products. This system is now the most ecologically destructive force on our planet—the leading cause of the mass extinction crisis and the second-leading source of greenhouse gas emissions, as well as the main cause of freshwater system loss, algal blooms, and land degradation.
The animal food system is also a moral and epidemiological calamity. Billions of sensitive chickens, pigs, cows, and others are forced into miserable, fetid conditions of intensive confinement, where they are beaten, tormented with electric prods, and then brutally killed at a fraction of their lifespans. Our prisoners suffer such psychological and physiological stress and trauma that millions die even before they can reach a slaughterhouse. So to keep them alive, farmers pump them full of antibiotics. Seventy percent of antibiotics worldwide are fed to farmed animals, a practice which, in turn, is fueling deadly new strains of antibiotic-resistant “superbugs.”
Natural ecosystems constrain the virulence of pathogens like H5N1, by selecting out the most lethal traits that would otherwise keep a virus from spreading by killing its host prematurely. As science writer Brandon Keim observes, however, the “constraints on virulence” ordinarily found in nature are absent on industrialized poultry farms, where birds are killed at a tiny fraction of their normal lifespans. In fact, virulence is selected for.
It was only a matter of time, thus, before the horrific and unjust conditions in the animal agriculture system became the proving ground for a pathogen capable of igniting a dangerous pandemic. Now our luck may have run out.
Last year, the H5N1 virus crossed a crucial threshold, when wild birds exposed to concentrations of the virus on animal farms contracted the disease and spread it to other species along their migration routes. Meanwhile, the Biden administration, deferring to powerful agricultural interests—and seeking to avoid antagonizing rural voters in an election year—squandered every opportunity to track and contain the deadly disease. For months, the U.S. government effectively stood by and did nothing. As a result, H5N1 has now become endemic throughout the U.S. animal agriculture system. And the longer it remains there, the more likely is it to mutate into a form transmissable between humans.
How bad would that be? In 2005, David Nabarro, then the United Nations system coordinator for avian and human influenza, warned that a bird flu pandemic could kill up to 150 million people. That may be a conservative estimate, however, since the known past mortality rate from avian flu in humans has been over 50%, making H5N1 up to 100 times deadlier than Covid-19. Unlike Covid-19 furthermore, a bird flu pandemic would not primarily target older adults or people with underlying conditions, but would kill indiscriminately.
The H5N1 virus is neuropathic, meaning that it attacks the brain, causing conditions ranging from mild encaphalitis to seizures, coma, and death. Children and pregnant women would be especially vulnerable to the virus. When a Canadian teen contracted the H5N1 virus last year, she suffered multiple organ failure and had to be placed on a respirator for months before she recovered. Avian flu has meanwhile killed 90% of the pregnant women who, in past decades, contracted it. “We are in a terrible situation and going into a worse situation,” Angela Rasmussen, a Canadian virologist, recently warned. “I don’t know if the bird flu will become a pandemic, but if it does, we are screwed.”
So far, we have been extremely lucky. The dozens of farm workers who have fallen ill from avian flu this last year, most from exposure to infected dairy cows, appear to have contracted a mild version of the virus. Most have now recovered. Last month, however, the far deadlier D1.1 variant of the virus was discovered in a herd of cattle in Nevada. Should such a lethal variant mutate into a transmissable form, and become capable of binding to receptors in our lungs, the resulting pandemic could lead to societal chaos and mass mortality.
For too long, we have behaved as if our species were “an island entire of itself,” and we were the only beings whose lives mattered or had value.
Just before leaving office, then-President Joe Biden transferred $590 million to Moderna to accelerate development of a bird flu vaccine. Other companies are also working on vaccines. But it’s anyone’s guess if they will be ready in time. Even with a vaccine, Americans can expect little help from their government should a bird flu pandemic materialize, since President Donald Trump is eviscerating the federal agencies responsible for public health and disease prevention. The new administration has slashed the budgets and staff of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention and FEMA, suppressed CDC updates on bird flu, and taken the U.S. out of the World Health Organization—the international agency responsible for monitoring and providing guidance on global public health threats, including pandemics.
Worsening matters, any federal response to an avian flu pandemic would be in the hands of Robert F. Kennedy Jr., the new secretary of Health and Human Services—a notorious vaccine skeptic. President Trump himself would likely respond to a new pandemic not by protecting the most vulnerable Americans, but by using the crisis to expand his own powers, if not to impose martial law.
Perhaps our luck will hold, and we will somehow all avoid getting avian flu. But we can’t count on it. Nor can we afford to go on ignoring the inextricable links between our oppression of nonhuman animals and growing pandemic risk.
The best way to prevent zoonotic pathogens from making us sick in future is to begin transitioning to an all plant-based diet. In doing so, we would not only spare billions of animals further suffering, but also mitigate a great deal of environmental damage to our planet. And we ourselves would be healthier for it. Scientists have shown that vegans have lower rates of heart disease, stroke, cancer, and type 2 diabetes than meat-eaters. One study in JAMA found that vegans may even live longer than “omnivores” who consume animal products.
Tragically, however, rather than rethink our dietary choices, we continue to cling to the animal system, and to its vast cruelties, against the better claims of reason and conscience. Few people indeed seem aware of the violence and suffering that attend even “ordinary” animal production. To produce eggs, for example, tens of millions of chickens are jammed into cages so small that they cannot extend even a single wing. The birds’ beaks are painfully cut off to keep them from pecking at their cell mates in distress. Then the chickens are repeatedly starved to shock their systems into producing more eggs. Finally, they are violently grabbed and thrown into a truck, and brought to the slaughterhouse. There, they are shackled upside down by their legs and have their throats cut, often while still conscious. Many are boiled alive in feather removal tanks. Billions of male baby chicks—of no use to industry—are meanwhile ground up alive or are simply tossed away in dumpsters, to suffocate or die from dehydration.
These and other barbaric practices have no place in society today. Even now, however, Americans are concerned only about soaring egg prices, not about the suffering of the tens of millions of animals being killed in ventilator shutdowns across the country. The idea that we should simply stop eating eggs—for the birds’ well-being as much as for our own safety—appears not to have occurred to anyone.
As an ethicist who has spent decades lecturing and publishing on animal rights, hoping to convince people that there is a better way to live a human life than by imprisoning and killing our fellow beings, I find it beyond discouraging how little progress has been made toward ending our violence against animals in the food economy. The avian flu threat, however, has now given us an opportunity to rethink our existential and ethical relations with the other animals of our planet, and to recognize how closely our fates are bound together.
“Ask not for whom the bell tolls—it tolls for thee.” When the poet John Donne wrote these words, centuries ago, it was customary for churches in England to toll their bells to announce the death of someone in the community. We are deeply connected to one another, Donne was saying, and what happens to one, happens to all.
“No man is an island entire of itself,” Donne wrote. Each of us “is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.” Every death therefore “diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind.”
Donne’s poem has taken on new significance, as avian influenza now closes in around us. Our species is not alone on the Earth, but part of the biotic main, a “piece of a continent” teeming with myriad other suffering, mortal beings. And what we do to the other animals, we do also to ourselves.
For too long, we have behaved as if our species were “an island entire of itself,” and we were the only beings whose lives mattered or had value. Now, after long treating our fellow creatures with violence and contempt, as mere “things” to be exploited and killed for our purposes, our karmic debt is coming due, in a ruined Earth and escalating pandemic risks. The tolling of the bell today is avian flu, and it tolls for us.
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Can Preventive Policies Like the OCTOPUS Act Truly Stop Animal Suffering?
Already passed in Washington State and California, this bill seeks to ban octopus farming altogether before it ever becomes reality and before a powerful lobby emerges to defend it.
Nov 27, 2024
Octopuses, with three hearts and remarkable intelligence, remain among the most intriguing non-human species ever studied. Despite their unsuitability for domestication, multiple plans are emerging to farm them intensively.
The most worrying proposal comes from the company Nueva Pescanova, which aims to establish Europe’s first octopus farm in the Canary Islands, as well as breed and kill over 1 million octopuses per year.
In the United States, hope takes the form of the OCTOPUS Act. Already passed in Washington State and California, this bill seeks to ban octopus farming altogether before it ever becomes reality. Animal rights organizations are not stopping there, as they plan to introduce this preventive bill in at least five additional states.
What exactly are preventive policies? Why are they becoming a preferred strategy for animal rights organizations?
Preventive policies function as a preemptive strike, making it possible to ban or regulate activities that have the potential to cause harm. Such policies are particularly valuable in the context of animal welfare because they can stop inhumane practices before they become ingrained, or before powerful lobbying groups form around them. As the old English proverb goes: “Better safe than sorry.”
Why do animal rights organizations favor preventive policies?
One of the most powerful, albeit challenging, ways of countering animal suffering at scale is through policy change. Over the past three decades, preventive policies have gained momentum as a key tool for environmental protection. More recently, animal rights organizations have also turned to this strategy as a way of protecting animals.
The OCTOPUS Act stands as a promising example of how we can protect animals before cruelty becomes entrenched.
Preventive policies are also more politically feasible. At present, octopus meat is caught wild, and local fishermen have not been targeted by the policy. They are even in favor of the OCTOPUS Act because it will protect their activities. There is less resistance to such a ban because no industry currently exists for farming octopuses. Contrast this with efforts to end factory farming for chickens or pigs, where deeply entrenched lobbies make change difficult.
Overall, preventive policies lay the groundwork for long-term, sustainable change. They can create a ripple effect, setting a precedent that can inspire other countries to follow suit. Eurogroup for Animals has already suggested that the European Union should consider similar legislation: “If the U.S. can do it, the E.U. can too.”
Do preventive policies live up to the expectations?
While preventive policies are powerful, they are not without drawbacks. Policies take a long time to draft, introduce, pass through the appropriate legislative bodies, and, at last, implement. In the interim, harmful practices may even develop in other jurisdictions. Preventive policies do not offer the immediate relief that animal advocates are hoping for.
Another concern is that restricting a practice through legal means could give rise to covert practices that are even more harmful or make it more difficult to ensure animal welfare standards. The demand for octopus meat could lead to illegal activities, such as black market trade or trafficking.
It is also challenging to quantify the precise impact of any one policy on animal suffering. Animal protection is multifactorial. Policies are just one piece of the puzzle that includes advocacy efforts, campaigns, public awareness, and social pressure as well as shifts in cultural attitudes. While the OCTOPUS Act may prevent octopus farming in the United States, how much animal suffering will be reduced? We cannot assume that harm will be entirely eradicated without continued effort across multiple fronts.
How can we ensure that preventive policies make a difference?
We must endorse a holistic approach to ensure that policies like the OCTOPUS Act carry the weight we intend. Science and research should inform the drafting of legislation, ensuring that laws are grounded in deep understanding of animal cognition and welfare. Simultaneously, advocacy campaigns and public pressure help generate the social momentum to push these policies forward.
Creative expressions—whether through art, film, or photography—can also play a significant role in raising awareness, in fostering empathy for animals, and in driving change. My Octopus Teacher is a brilliant example of this. While the impact of these efforts is even harder to quantify, they are often the spark that leads to legislative change.
Preventive policies alone are not a silver bullet, but they are an essential tool in the fight for animal welfare. The OCTOPUS Act stands as a promising example of how we can protect animals before cruelty becomes entrenched.
May this bill pass in many other states, create change internationally, and set a precedent to safeguard the lives of billions of animals.
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Outraged Over False Claims of Pet Eating? Consider the True Horrors of Factory Farms
What we do to billions of animals legally in the U.S. food system is far more extensive, not to mention ghastly, than much of the animal sacrifices that may occur in other people’s religious rituals.
Oct 13, 2024
The stories about Haitian migrants in Springfield, Ohio, eating pets have been debunked. Even the woman who filed a police report accusing Haitian migrants of stealing her cat apologized when she later found her cat in her own basement. Sadly, despite being proven false, the damage from these unfounded claims has been severe. Haitians living in Springfield have been subject to hate crimes and threats from people who believe the lie and have coupled their outrage with bigotry to terrorize a community of migrants who are living and working legally in the community through the Temporary Protective Status designation.
Despite the fact that there is no substantiation for the stories, a friend tried to convince me that Haitians are really, truly eating cats and dogs. The evidence, he insisted, came from police bodycam footage. As it turned out, the footage he was talking about was from an arrest of a woman—who was not Haitian—in another part of Ohio who allegedly killed and ate a cat. This woman was born and raised in America and apparently has a mental health disorder. When I pointed these facts out to my friend, he still didn’t acknowledge his error. Instead, he sent me a description of Vodou (aka Voodoo), a religion practiced by many Haitians, which included descriptions of animal sacrifice. He wrote that it would be better if this religion died out and its immigrant practitioners assimilated into American culture.
Perhaps this particularly pernicious and bigoted moment in our polarized society could be a wake-up call to become a bit more introspective and cultivate some moral consistency in how we treat others.
My head was spinning. There were so many ways I could respond. Should I focus on helping him to acknowledge that his original claim was false? Should I point out that his Irish family and my Jewish family were vilified for their cultural differences when they came to this country and invite him to reflect upon his negative judgments about newer immigrants? Should I talk about the range of religious injunctions, not confined to Vodou, which cause harm to animals? I didn’t know where to begin.
Because we’d discussed animal cruelty many times in the past, after mentioning all the points above, I further responded that what we do to billions of animals legally in the U.S. food system is far more extensive, not to mention ghastly, than much of the animal sacrifices that may occur in other people’s religious rituals. Moreover, I pointed out, he was an enthusiastic participant in the cruelty we inflict on cows, pigs, chickens, turkeys, and other animals raised for food because he regularly consumes meat, dairy, and eggs. Until now, he’d never expressed much concern about the welfare of animals, often telling me that he cares more about people than animals. Suddenly, along with millions of other Americans who erroneously believe Haitians are eating dogs and cats, he claims to care a lot.
In our culture, most people recoil at the thought of eating dogs and cats and believe it would be wrong to do so. But if it’s wrong to eat dogs and cats, then how is it right to eat pigs—known to be as or more intelligent than dogs—or to consume cows and chickens, both able to feel pain just as acutely as cats and cockatiels do? If we look inward to consider who we eat, we may discover justifications but little disgust or moral outrage.
And yet, the abuse we inflict upon billions of farmed animals each year is on a scale nearly unimaginable. For example, dairy cows in the United States are forced to produce a calf every year, and when they are born, the newborns are taken away from their distraught mothers on their first day of life. We then take the milk meant for the calves for ourselves. The cows are then forced to produce 5 to 10 times the amount of milk they would naturally produce to feed their young, resulting in mastitis, a painful udder infection necessitating antibiotic treatment in about half the dairy cows in the United States. After years of this cycle of artificial insemination, birth, and perpetual milking, their milk production declines. At that point, the cows are sent to slaughter, usually to become hamburger or processed meat.
What about chickens and turkeys, whose names we hurl as an insult of cowardice (for the former) and stupidity (for the latter) even though these birds are brave and intelligent? Almost all of them live the entirety of their lives in crowded, ammonia-saturated buildings; are debeaked without painkillers to prevent them from pecking each other to death in their confinement; and, if they are being used for egg production, are likely caged so tightly they cannot even stretch a wing.
Where is the outrage? Where is the disgust? In her book Why We Love Dogs, Eat Pigs, and Wear Cows, psychologist Melanie Joy describes the invisible belief system, which she calls carnism, that leads us to eat certain animals while protecting others. It is this invisible belief system that explains our horror at the thought of people eating pets—a horror we might conceivably express around the dinner table as we gnaw on the rib of a pig or the wing of a hen.
I’d like to hope that the false accusations made against Haitian migrants will help us realize the glass houses we’re living in so that we stop throwing stones. Perhaps this particularly pernicious and bigoted moment in our polarized society could be a wake-up call to become a bit more introspective and cultivate some moral consistency in how we treat others. And then maybe we’ll each take a step toward minimizing the harm we cause humans and nonhumans alike.
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Measure J in California's Sonoma County Paves the Way for Environmental Health
Examining the hidden impacts of factory farming and how a ballot measure in the heart of wine country could put us on a path to a more sustainable and healthier future.
Jul 13, 2024
In a June article in Politico, the author of “Animal rights comes to ‘America’s Provence’ and farmers are worried” dives into the ongoing debate over Measure J on Sonoma County’s November ballot, which seeks to bar the operation and maintenance of concentrated (or confined) animal feeding operations. The piece overlooks the significant damages that CAFOs have historically inflicted upon surrounding communities and animals.
The piece cites CAFO operators’ commitment to sustainable practices and “compliance monitoring,” such as recycling manure by applying it to agricultural land as a natural fertilizer. Such land applications, however, frequently lead to groundwater contamination through runoff. Sonoma County has the most wells per capita of any California county, with around 23,000 properties relying on groundwater from a private well for their water supply. Sonoma County residents deserve access to clean water, uncontaminated by manure.
These facilities also impact air quality and human health. A 2019 University of Wisconsin-Madison study corroborated previous findings stating that the closer children lived to a CAFO, the more likely they were to develop asthma. According to the California Air Resources Board, one in six children living in California’s Central Valley suffer from asthma.
Measure J offers a path to a more sustainable future for Sonoma County. Voting for Measure J this November would allow the county to lead by example—pushing for environmental and public health protections and making a collective effort to protect our environment and public health.
Asthmatic symptoms caused by hazardous contaminants are not the only consequence of CAFO air pollution. CAFOs emit egregious amounts of greenhouse gases that heavily contribute to climate change. Methane and nitrous oxide emissions are 23 and 300 times more potent than carbon dioxide as greenhouse gases, respectively. Animal agriculture is the leading source of U.S. methane emissions, while agricultural soil management is responsible for 75% of U.S. nitrous oxide emissions, primarily because of the use of manure from animal agribusiness.
CAFOs are also associated with the increased spread of diseases—including avian flu—among animals and humans. In the original article, farmer Mike Weber admitted that he had to kill all 550,000 chickens in December due to an outbreak. Several states have recently suffered from avian flu outbreaks, 48 with affected poultry and 12 with affected cattle. The extremely high-density environment of a CAFO facilitates a quicker transfer of the virus, exacerbated by wastewater that is often improperly treated and discharged. These cruel conditions are a perfect storm for a public health disaster, while also causing high levels of stress, discomfort, and illness among the animals housed there.
Although the piece argues that Measure J would impede family farm livelihood, it is actually the opposite. As a matter of fact, small family farmers are often the strongest adversaries of large, industrial-scale CAFOs. For example, family farmers in Iowa are calling for reduced federal subsidies for large CAFOs in favor of increased funding for conservation programs targeted at smaller farms. These are not activists wanting to “eradicate animal farming entirely.” The opposition to CAFOs is a community-led effort to ensure all Californians get a cleaner and healthier food system and environment.
Measure J seeks to prohibit the establishment, operation, expansion, or maintenance of CAFOs in the unincorporated areas of Sonoma County. This prohibition aims to protect the environment, safeguard public health, and address environmental justice concerns. It even provides existing CAFOs with a phase-out period of three years to modify or cease operations.
The measure does not simply cast CAFO owners aside. It includes provisions to ensure that farm workers receive the assistance and training they may need to transition to government-sanctioned agricultural operations. The measure does not require these animal feeding operations to close outright but rather gives them a three-year period to modify their operations so that they no longer qualify as CAFOs. That time period presents the perfect opportunity for owners to lean into sustainable agricultural practices, for which Sonoma County has long been known. Sustainable approaches, such as implementing pasture-based feeding and taking a circular, whole-systems farming approach, are increasingly feasible, economically viable, and almost always more humane.
Measure J offers a path to a more sustainable future for Sonoma County. Voting for Measure J this November would allow the county to lead by example—pushing for environmental and public health protections and making a collective effort to protect our environment and public health. It's time to prioritize human and environmental health over industrial farming practices that harm our communities, animals, and planet.
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Grieving the Family Cat in a Painfully Violent World
I’ve been a little reluctant to admit how much I’ve grieved. Who am I to mourn so much for one small creature?
Jun 18, 2024
The ancient Sumerians had a proverb: “A loving heart builds houses.” I’ve thought of it many times since a member of our household, a cat, died last month. People who think cats are indifferent or self-centered would have been astonished at the depth of this one’s compassion and love. She built houses.
I’ve been a little reluctant to admit how much I’ve grieved for her. Who am I to mourn so much for one small creature? Am I weak? Self-indulgent? That led me to some psychology papers about the experience of losing a pet, or what some therapists call an “animal companion.” (Other groups use the term “non-human persons.”)
“Psychologists should view pet loss as an important domain,” one paper says. It cites “human–animal attachment,” “the benefits of pet companionship, and “the profound sense of grief that can be experienced in response to the death of a pet.” This mourning sometimes becomes “disenfranchised grief,” either because others don’t recognize the depth of the resulting sorrow or because the grieving person doesn’t feel they have the right to such profound emotion.
Our Palestinian friends have been among the most compassionate about our loss, despite the magnitude of the ongoing horror in Gaza. That makes sense, come to think of it. Grief should soften our hearts and help us recognize the personhood and pain of others.
Those papers told me what I already knew, but still needed to hear: that it’s only natural to mourn someone who lived by your side for years. Too often we try to dictate our emotions, ordering them this way and that like we’re some border guard of the heart. That’s a mistake. In fact, it’s worse than a mistake. It’s an apartheid of the spirit.
The Sumerian proverb continues: “A hating heart destroys houses.” The wars go on: wars of attrition, wars of starvation, wars of extermination. I ask myself: Who am I to feel sad when people around the world are losing everyone they love, from infants to the elderly?
But grief can’t be quantified or compared. It’s like a neutrino. It has no mass, just energy. It’s the dark-mirror image of “the Guide” in Stephen Mitchell’s translation of the Bhagavad Gita: “primordial poet, smaller than an atom, inconceivable, brilliant as the sun.”
Our Palestinian friends have been among the most compassionate about our loss, despite the magnitude of the ongoing horror in Gaza. That makes sense, come to think of it. Grief should soften our hearts and help us recognize the personhood and pain of others.
A confession: For years, I called myself a “dog person.” But those distinctions feel artificial now. Consciousness knows no taxonomy. It just is.
Cats are still maligned in Western societies, which is probably a holdover from European superstitions. But they’ve always had their advocates. The famously dissolute Charles Baudelaire wrote about them in his then-scandalous Flowers of Evil, using language so sentimental it could embarrass a schoolchild. Pablo Neruda wrote several poems about them. One says:
the cat
only wants to be a cat
and any cat is a cat
... from the night to his golden eyes.
It continues:
There is no unity
like him,
he is just one thing
like the sun or the topaz,
and the elastic line of his contours
is firm and subtle like
the line of a ship's prow.
The image above isn’t a sketch of the cat who just died. It’s her sister, who she cared for like a mother. That solicitude saved both their lives in the shelter when it was time for them to be euthanized. The volunteer who brought them to us said she saw it and thought, “I can’t let that love die.”
Grief can’t be quantified or compared. It’s like a neutrino. It has no mass, just energy.
It didn’t, until now.
Sleep, sleep cat of the night,
with episcopal ceremony
Take care of all our dreams ...
Here’s the thing about grief, as I’ve been reminded: You can’t think, read, or write your way out of it. You have to treat it like a new roommate, cohabiting with it until the new arrangement becomes comfortable for both of you.
The Buddhist teacher and therapist Dharmavidya David Brazier wrote a book on grief called “Who Loves Dies Well.” That phrase could have been this cat’s epitaph. A loving heart builds houses. They’re sturdy houses, with room enough for all the people who come looking for shelter. Once there, they remain your companions forever.
This house seems lonelier, for sure. But it was built to last, and it will always be home.
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In 'Stunning' Reversal, Wisconsin Throws Out Case Against Puppy Mill Rescuers
“The state and Ridglan are acknowledging what we knew to be true: we have the right to rescue suffering animals from abuse because they are sentient beings, not things,” said one animal rights campaigner.
Mar 08, 2024
In what one animal rights advocate called a "stunning admission" by Wisconsin prosecutors, the state on Friday dropped its case against three activists accused of rescuing beagles from a large dog breeding facility.
The prosecution, evidently, "prefers to let the defendants walk free than allow the world to see the dire conditions of dogs at Ridglan, and the state trying to jail activists for a heroic act of compassion," said Chris Carraway, an attorney with the Animal Activist Legal Defense Project who represents one of the defendants.
Carraway's client, Paul Darwin Picklesimer, allegedly joined Eva Hamer and Wayne Hsiung in an "open rescue" operation at Ridglan Farms in Dane County, Wisconsin in 2017.
In an open rescue, activists do not hide their identities as they enter facilities including breeding, agricultural, and animal experimentation centers and document the conditions before removing some or all of the animals. The tactic is aimed at publicizing the conditions animals are forced to endure in the facilities.
In the Ridglan case, the three defendants, who are members of the international animal rights group Direct Action Everywhere (DxE), found dogs who were crammed into small cages that put them at risk of foot and leg injuries; provided no access to the outdoors; forced to live in continuous 24-hour lighting; and living with "noxious air and feces building up beneath the cages."
The group wrote in a report that they "found many dogs wailing, howling, and barking, while others were lethargic and utterly passive... There were no soft beds, no toys, no access to sunlight, no human companionship."
The activists removed three beagles who appeared to be in particular distress, obtained veterinary care for them, and found homes where the dogs are still living, according to DxE. Picklesimer, Hamer, and Hsiung were arrested a year later after they shared information about the operation on social media.
They were charged with one count each of felony burglary and felony theft and faced a potential maximum sentence of 16 years in prison and a $35,000 fine before the state called for the charges to be dropped. Judge Mario White granted the dismissal at a hearing on Friday.
The prosecution said in a motion filed this week that it wanted to prevent the defendants from using a "defense of others" defense, arguing that they should not be protected from liability because they rescued "things" instead of people.
"The state and Ridglan are acknowledging what we knew to be true: we have the right to rescue suffering animals from abuse because they are sentient beings, not things," said Hsiung.
Carraway suggested the state likely wanted to avoid a trial in which the defendants would present the conditions they found during their investigation at Ridglan Farms.
"Each time an open rescue case goes to court, the public can clearly see that the real crime is animal cruelty, not animal rescue," said Carraway.
More than 100 animal rights advocates had been planning to travel from around the country to attend the trial.
"It is more important now than ever that we keep the pressure on to get justice for these animals," said DxE.
Hsiung noted that state inspectors found in 2016 that Ridglan was subjecting dogs to "improper caging conditions" and warned the facility to stop the practice to avoid harming dogs' feet and legs.
As recently as last year, federal inspectors found that the problem persisted at Ridglan.
Hsiung called for a special prosecutor to be appointed by the state to investigate Ridglan so its practices can be made public.
"This legal battle has just begun," he said.
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