or what happened to your dinner when it was still an animal
For most human beings, especially those in modern urban and suburban communities, the most direct form of contact with nonhuman animals is at mealtime: we eat them. This simple fact is the key to our attitudes toward other animals, and also the key to what each one of us can do about changing these attitudes. The use and abuse of animals raised for food far exceeds, in sheer numbers of animals affected, any other kind of mistreatment. Over 100 million cows, pigs, and sheep are raised and slaughtered in the United States alone each year; and for poultry the figure is a staggering 5 billion. (That means that about eight thousand birds—mostly chickens—will have been slaughtered in the time it takes you to read this page.) It is here, on our dinner table and in our neighborhood supermarket or butcher’s shop, that we are brought into direct touch with the most extensive exploitation of other species that has ever existed.
In general, we are ignorant of the abuse of living creatures that lies behind the food we eat. Buying food in a store or restaurant is the culmination of a long process, of which all but the end product is delicately screened from our eyes. We buy our meat and poultry in neat plastic packages. It hardly bleeds. There is no reason to associate this package with a living, breathing, walking, suffering animal. The very words we use conceal its origins, we eat beef, not bull, steer, or cow; and pork, not pig—although for some reason we seem to find it easier to face the true nature of a leg of lamb. The term “meat” is itself deceptive. It originally meant any solid food, not necessarily the flesh of animals. This image still lingers in an expression like “nut meat,” which seems to imply a substitute for “flesh meat” but actually has an equally good claim to be called “meat” in its own right. By using the more general “meat” we avoid facing the fact that what we are eating is really flesh.
These verbal disguises are merely the top layer of a much deeper ignorance of the origin of our food. Consider the images conjured up by the word “farm”: a house; a barn; a flock of hens, overseen by a strutting rooster, scratching around the farmyard; a herd of cows being brought in from the fields for milking; and perhaps a sow rooting around in the orchard with a litter of squealing piglets running excitedly behind her.
Very few farms were ever as idyllic as that traditional image would have us believe. Yet we still think of a farm as a pleasant place, far removed from our own industrial, profit-conscious city life. Of those few who think about the lives of animals on farms, not many know much about modern methods of raising animals. Some people wonder whether animals are slaughtered painlessly, and anyone who has followed a truck-load of cattle on the road will probably know that farm animals are transported in extremely crowded conditions; but not many suspect that transportation and slaughter are anything more than the brief and inevitable conclusion of a life of ease and contentment, a life that contains the natural pleasures of animal existence without the hardships that wild animals must endure in their struggle for survival.
These comfortable assumptions bear little relation to the realities of modern farming. For a start, farming is no longer controlled by simple country folk. During the last fifty years, large corporations and assembly-line methods of production have turned agriculture into agribusiness. The process began when big companies gained control of poultry production, once the preserve of the farmer’s wife. Today, fifty large corporations virtually control all poultry production in the United States. In the field of egg production, where fifty years ago a big producer might have had three thousand laying hens, today many producers have more than 500,000 layers, and the largest have over 10 million. The remaining small producers have had to adopt the methods of the giants or else go out of business. Companies that had no connection with agriculture have become farmers on a huge scale in order to gain tax concessions or to diversify profits. Greyhound Corporation now produces turkeys, and your roast beef may have come from John Hancock Mutual Life Insurance or from one of a dozen oil companies that have invested in cattle feeding, building feedlots that hold 100,000 or more cattle.1
The big corporations and those who must compete with them are not concerned with a sense of harmony among plants, animals, and nature. Farming is competitive, and the methods adopted are those that cut costs and increase production. So farming is now “factory farming.” Animals are treated like machines that convert low-priced fodder into high-priced flesh, and any innovation will be used if it results in a cheaper “conversion ratio.” Most of this chapter is simply a description of these methods, and of what they mean for the animals to whom they are applied. The aim is to demonstrate that under these methods animals lead miserable lives from birth to slaughter. Once again, however, my point is not that the people who do these things to the animals are cruel and wicked. On the contrary, the attitudes of the consumers and the producers are not fundamentally different. The farming methods I am about to describe are merely the logical application of the attitudes and prejudices that are discussed elsewhere in this book. Once we place nonhuman animals outside our sphere of moral consideration and treat them as things we use to satisfy our own desires, the outcome is predictable.
Of all the forms of intensive farming now practiced, the veal industry ranks as the most morally repugnant. The essence of veal raising is the feeding of a high-protein food to confined, anemic calves in a manner that will produce a tender, pale-colored flesh that will be served to the patrons of expensive restaurants. Fortunately this industry does not compare in size with poultry, beef, or pig production; nevertheless it is worth our attention because it represents an extreme, both in the degree of exploitation to which it subjects the animals and in its absurd inefficiency as a method of providing people with nourishment.
Veal is the flesh of a young calf. The term was originally reserved for calves killed before they had been weaned from their mothers. The flesh of these very young animals was paler and more tender than that of a calf who had begun to eat grass; but there was not much of it, since calves begin to eat grass when they are a few weeks old and still very small. The small amount available came from the unwanted male calves produced by the dairy industry. A day or two after being born they were trucked to market where, hungry and frightened by the strange surroundings and the absence of their mothers, they were sold for immediate delivery to the slaughterhouse.
Then in the 1950s veal producers in Holland found a way to keep the calf alive longer without the flesh becoming red or less tender. The trick depends on keeping the calf in highly unnatural conditions. If calves were left to grow up outside they would romp around the fields, developing muscles that would toughen their flesh and burning up calories that the producer must replace with costly feed. At the same time they would eat grass, and their flesh would lose the pale color that the flesh of newborn calves has. So the specialist veal producers take their calves straight from the auction ring to a confinement unit. Here, in a converted barn or specially built shed, they have rows of wooden stalls, each 1 foot 10 inches wide by 4 feet 6 inches long. It has a slatted wooden floor, raised above the concrete floor of the shed. The calves are tethered by a chain around the neck to prevent them from turning in their stalls when they are small. (The chain may be removed when the calves grow too big to turn around in such narrow stalls.) The stall has no straw or other bedding, since the calves might eat it, spoiling the paleness of their flesh. They leave their stalls only to be taken out to slaughter. They are fed a totally liquid diet, based on nonfat milk powder with vitamins, minerals, and growth-promoting drugs added. Thus the calves live for the next sixteen weeks. The beauty of the system, from the producers’ point of view, is that at this age the veal calf may weigh as much as four hundred pounds, instead of the ninety-odd pounds that newborn calves weigh; and since veal fetches a premium price, rearing veal calves in this manner is a profitable occupation.
This method of raising calves was introduced to the United States in 1962 by Provimi, Inc., a feed manufacturer based in Watertown, Wisconsin. Its name comes from the “proteins, vitamins, and minerals” of which its feeds are composed—ingredients that, one might think, could be put to better use than raising veal. Provimi, according to its own boast, created this “new and complete concept in veal raising” and it is still by far the largest company in the business, controlling 50 to 75 percent of the domestic market. Its interest in promoting veal production lies in developing a market for its feed. Describing what it considered “optimum veal production,” Provimi’s now defunct newssheet, The Stall Street Journal, gives us an insight into the nature of the industry, which in the United States and some European countries has remained essentially unchanged since its introduction:
The dual aims of veal production are firstly, to produce a calf of the greatest weight in the shortest possible time and secondly, to keep its meat as light colored as possible to fulfill the consumer’s requirement. All at a profit commensurate to the risk and investment involved.2
The narrow stalls and their slatted wooden floors are a serious source of discomfort to the calves. When the calves grow larger, they cannot even stand up and lie down without difficulty. As a report from a research group headed by Professor John Webster of the animal husbandry unit at the School of Veterinary Science, University of Bristol, in England, noted:
Veal calves in crates 750 mm wide cannot, of course, lie flat with their legs extended.… Calves may lie like this when they feel warm and wish to lose heat.… Well-grown veal calves at air temperatures above 20 degrees C [68 degrees F] may be uncomfortably hot. Denying them the opportunity to adopt a position designed to maximise heat loss only makes things worse.… Veal calves in boxes over the age of 10 weeks were unable to adopt a normal sleeping position with their heads tucked into their sides. We conclude that denying veal calves the opportunity to adopt a normal sleeping posture is a significant insult to welfare. To overcome this, the crates would need to be at least 900 mm wide.3
American readers should note that 750 millimeters is equivalent to 2 feet 6 inches, and 900 millimeters to 3 feet, both considerably more than the standard 1-foot 10-inch crates used in the United States.
The crates are also too narrow to permit the calf to turn around. This is another source of frustration. In addition, a stall too narrow to turn around in is also too narrow to groom comfortably in; and calves have an innate desire to twist their heads around and groom themselves with their tongues. As the University of Bristol researchers said:
Because veal calves grow so fast and produce so much heat they tend to shed their coats at about 10 weeks of age. During this time they have a great urge to groom themselves. They are also particularly prone to infestation with external parasites, especially in mild, humid conditions. Veal calves in crates cannot reach much of their body. We conclude that denying the veal calf the opportunity to groom itself thoroughly is an unacceptable insult to welfare whether this is achieved by constraining its freedom of movement or, worse, by the use of a muzzle.4
A slatted wooden floor without any bedding is hard and uncomfortable; it is rough on the calves’ knees as they get up and lie down. In addition, animals with hooves are uncomfortable on slatted floors. A slatted floor is like a cattle grid, which cattle always avoid, except that the slats are closer together. The spaces, however, must still be large enough to allow most of the manure to fall or be washed through, and this means that they are large enough to make the calves uncomfortable on them. The Bristol team described the young calves as “for some days insecure and reluctant to change position.”
The young calves sorely miss their mothers. They also miss something to suck on. The urge to suck is strong in a baby calf, as it is in a baby human. These calves have no teat to suck on, nor do they have any substitute. From their first day in confinement—which may well be only the third or fourth day of their lives—they drink from a plastic bucket. Attempts have been made to feed calves through artificial teats, but the task of keeping the teats clean and sterile is apparently not worth the producer’s trouble. It is common to see calves frantically trying to suck some part of their stalls, although there is usually nothing suitable; and if you offer a veal calf your finger you will find that he immediately begins to suck on it, as human babies suck their thumbs.
Later the calf develops a need to ruminate—that is, to take in roughage and chew the cud. But roughage is strictly forbidden because it contains iron and will darken the flesh, so, again, the calf may resort to vain attempts to chew the sides of his stall. Digestive disorders, including stomach ulcers, are common in veal calves. So is chronic diarrhea. To quote the Bristol study once again:
The calves are deprived of dry feed. This completely distorts the normal development of the rumen and encourages the development of hair balls which may also lead to chronic indigestion.5
As if this were not enough, the calf is deliberately kept anemic. Provimi’s Stall Street Journal explains why:
Color of veal is one of the primary factors involved in obtaining “top-dollar” returns from the fancy veal markets.… “Light color” veal is a premium item much in demand at better clubs, hotels and restaurants. “Light color” or pink veal is partly associated with the amount of iron in the muscle of the calves.6
So Provimi’s feeds, like those of other manufacturers of veal feeds, are deliberately kept low in iron. A normal calf would obtain iron from grass and other forms of roughage, but since veal calves are not allowed this, they become anemic. Pale pink flesh is in fact anemic flesh. The demand for flesh of this color is a matter of snob appeal. The color does not affect the taste and it certainly does not make the flesh more nourishing—it just means that it lacks iron.
The anemia is, of course, controlled. Without any iron at all the calves would drop dead. With a normal intake their flesh will not fetch as much per pound. So a balance is struck which keeps the flesh pale and the calves—or most of them—on their feet long enough for them to reach market weight. The calves, however, are unhealthy and anemic animals. Kept deliberately short of iron, they develop a craving for it and will lick any iron fittings in their stalls. This explains the use of wooden stalls. As Provimi tells its customers:
The main reason for using hardwood instead of metal boxstalls is that metal may affect the light veal color.… Keep all iron out of reach of your calves.7
And again:
It is also necessary that calves do not have access to a continuous source of iron. (Water supplied should be checked. If a high level of iron [excess of 0.5 ppm] is present an iron filter should be considered.) Calf crates should be constructed so calves have no access to rusty metal.8
The anemic calf’s insatiable craving for iron is one of the reasons the producer is anxious to prevent him from turning around in his stall. Although calves, like pigs, normally prefer not to go near their own urine or manure, urine does contain some iron. The desire for iron is strong enough to overcome the natural repugnance, and the anemic calves will lick the slats that are saturated with urine. The producer does not like this, because it gives calves a little iron and because in licking the slats the calves may pick up infections from their manure, which falls on the same spot as their urine.
We have seen that in the view of Provimi, Inc., the twin aims of veal production are producing a calf of the greatest possible weight in the shortest possible time and keeping the meat as light in color as possible. We have seen what is done to achieve the second of these aims, but there is more to be said about the techniques used to achieve fast growth.
To make animals grow quickly they must take in as much food as possible, and they must use up as little of this food as possible in their daily life. To see that the veal calf takes in as much as possible, most calves are given no water. Their only source of liquid is their food—the rich milk replacer based on powdered milk and added fat. Since the buildings in which they are housed are kept warm, the thirsty animals take in more of their food than they would do if they could drink water. A common result of this overeating is that the calves break out in a sweat, rather like, it has been said, an executive who has had too much to eat too quickly.9 In sweating, the calf loses moisture, which makes him thirsty, so that he overeats again next time. By most standards this process is an unhealthy one, but by the standards of the veal producer aiming at producing the heaviest calf in the shortest possible time, the long-term health of the animal is irrelevant, so long as he survives to be taken to market; and so Provimi advises that sweating is a sign that “the calf is healthy and growing at capacity.”10
Getting the calf to overeat is half the battle; the other half is ensuring that as much as possible of what has been eaten goes toward putting on weight. Confining the calf so that he cannot exercise is one requirement for achieving this aim. Keeping the barn warm also contributes to it, since a cold calf burns calories just to keep warm. Even warm calves in their stalls are apt to become restless, however, for they have nothing to do all day except at their two mealtimes. A Dutch researcher has written:
Veal calves suffer from the inability to do something.… The food-intake of a veal calf takes only 20 minutes a day! Besides that there is nothing the animal can do.… One can observe teeth grinding, tail wagging, tongue swaying and other stereotype behavior.… Such stereotype movements can be regarded as a reaction to a lack of occupation.11
To reduce the restlessness of their bored calves, many veal producers leave the animals in the dark at all times, except when they are being fed. Since the veal sheds are normally windowless, this simply means turning off the lights. Thus the calves, already missing most of the affection, activity and stimulation that their natures require, are deprived of visual stimulation and of contact with other calves for more than twenty-two hours out of every twenty-four. Illnesses have been found to be more persistent in dark sheds.12
Calves kept in this manner are unhappy and unhealthy animals. Despite the fact that the veal producer selects only the strongest, healthiest calves to begin with, uses a medicated feed as a routine measure, and gives additional injections at the slightest sign of illness, digestive, respiratory, and infectious diseases are widespread. It is common for a veal producer to find that one in ten of a batch of calves does not survive the fifteen weeks of confinement. Between 10 and 15 percent mortality over such a short period would be disastrous for anyone raising calves for beef, but veal producers can tolerate this loss because the high-priced restaurants are prepared to pay well for their products.
Given the cozy relationship that normally exists between veterinarians working with farm animals and intensive producers (it is, after all, the owners, not the animals, who pay the bills), it gives us some indication of the extreme conditions under which veal calves are kept to learn that this is one aspect of animal production that has strained relations between veterinarians and producers. A 1982 issue of The Vealer reports:
Besides waiting too long to call veterinarians for a really sick calf, vets do not look favorable [sic] on relations with veal growers because they have long defied accepted agricultural methods. The feeding of long hay to livestock, in order to maintain a proper digestive system, has been considered a sound practice for years.13
The one bright spot in this sorry tale is that the conditions created by the veal crates are so appalling for animal welfare that British government regulations now require that a calf must be able to turn around without difficulty, must be fed a daily diet containing “sufficient iron to maintain it in full health and vigour,” and must receive enough fiber to allow normal development of the rumen.14 These are minimal welfare requirements and still fall well short of satisfying the needs of calves; but they are violated by almost all the veal units in the United States and by many in Europe.
If the reader will recall that this whole laborious, wasteful, and painful process of veal raising exists for the sole purpose of pandering to people who insist on pale, soft veal, no further comment should be needed.