RODEOS, RIGHTS, AND RESPECTFUL USE
In the book so far I have presented an approach that a pragmatist philosophy of animal well-being, augmented by specific insights from ecofeminism, might take when considering the current conditions of fish and cattle. I have also presented some history regarding the introduction of livestock to the United States, with a particular focus on cattle, to illuminate the complex interactions livestock have with humans and with physical environments. I have described mainstream industrial fish and cattle operations and discussed specific examples of farmers who challenge the industrial approach in one or more ways. I have presented several mainstream environmental philosophies, critiqued them from a pragmatist ecofeminist perspective, and used them to examine the practices and beliefs of those who raise livestock and those who consume livestock.
The previous chapter suggests that from a pragmatist perspective some amount of grass-fed cattle is compatible with conservation efforts, the flourishing of wildlife, the health of humans, and the well-being of the cattle themselves. That exact amount of cattle that is sustainable in these ways is not clear, but it is clear that it is not enough to satisfy the current appetite for beef. Human “predation” of cattle (and other livestock) would have to decrease. What about other human appetites? Cattle have been used for entertainment and ritual purposes throughout history as well. I have already mentioned cattle shows. These can be stressful for the animals because they require traveling and being on display. The risk of disease transfer increases as well. While many ranchers are moving to closed herds to limit disease exposure, shows have the opposite effect. But breeders participate in shows to promote their breeding lines. There are numerous state cattle expos where breeding (called seed stock) and feeder cattle are sold. The Fort Worth Livestock Expo and Rodeo is a famous example of this kind of event. While it has showing and education opportunities related to all kinds of livestock and to horses, there is a strong presence of cattle. This event builds on the relationship of cattle and horses to the myth of the cowboy and the West, as the livestock show is combined with a rodeo. Rodeos are sporting events many animal welfare and animal rights groups consider to be cruel, and not without reason.
Several events at rodeos include the use of cattle. Some of these come from early competitions to demonstrate skill at calf-roping, steer-roping, steer-wrestling, cutting, and penning. As with all competitions there are concerns about the stress caused by traveling and competing—especially for the calves. There are concerns of injury occurring during roping and wrestling. Some of the injuries that the cattle can suffer include torn tendons and ligaments, rope burns, dislocated and broken bones, and death from a broken neck. The Professional Rodeo Cowboy Association (PRCA) devotes a section of its website to animal welfare rules, including the humane transport of injured animals from the arena. There is some attempt to prevent injury with fines for pulling a calf over backwards, being unnecessarily rough, or using electric prods when not needed. Cutting and penning have also become specialized aspects of horse competitions, and cattle are shipped around the country so that horses can compete. There is an irony in the fact that specialized horses are bred to work the cattle who pushed their free-roaming relatives off the range and into pens themselves.
To get a sense of the attitude about many of the animals at a rodeo it can be instructive to look at the wild horse race events. Staged to draw a crowd, in this event, a team of three people hold, saddle, and ride an “unhandled” horse. Horses and humans regularly get hurt in these events. When two horses had to be euthanized after colliding head on at full speed at a rodeo in St. Paul, Oregon, the organizers reluctantly canceled future races. Complaining about the cancellation, one person commented, “It’s the way you used to break horses in the old days,” he said. “Nowadays, they do it kind of different” (Cheesman). There is a nostalgic tone to his remark. Even in races that don’t result in injury or death, the event is incredibly stressful for the horses and clearly an animal welfare concern. The person here expresses no concern for the horses, though, and horses are prized animals in U.S. culture. Given this, it is hard to expect real concern for the cattle used in most rodeos. They are generally seen as disposable and replaceable. The one possible exception is the bulls used in bull-riding.
The rodeo event of bull-riding has become its own touring and televised event. It is interesting to note that this world replicates the sexism seen in meat (especially beef) advertisements discussed in chapter 3. For example, the commercial for the Professional Bull Riders (PBR) finals in Las Vegas in 2014 featured the famous bull Bushwacker as “one of the cowboys” trying to get into a party with bikini-clad women. An ESPN article about Bushwacker describes him as seeing bulls as “those he wants to brawl” and cows as “those he wants to bang” (Wright).
Riders in the PBR compete in big-money, televised events, as do the bulls. Both the bulls and the riders are called athletes and both are scored in competition. Being a bucking bull breeder can be quite lucrative, and being a bull on the professional circuit is probably not too bad—travel, eat, buck. Given the money invested in them, bulls are given good veterinary care and time off. Those on more local and amateur circuits, though, often have problematic lives. While their owners may care for them (since they are an investment of money), they are often handled and ridden by less-experienced people. At such events it is not uncommon to see unnecessary reliance on electric prods and hitting as well as lame animals competing. Because rodeos are exempt from the kinds of regulation that accompany other shows, there is little to no oversight. While the large professional rodeos have some self-regulation and enforcement of rules, the same cannot be said for the more local and amateur rodeos and bull-riding events. The lives of the females to whom these bulls are bred vary greatly depending on who owns them and are entirely unregulated.
As mentioned in chapter 3, two of the farmers in this study—Lee and Joe Markholt—were both bull riders. Both thought the bulls and horses involved in most rodeos were well treated. Lee and Joe thought that since the cattle and horses are a financial investment for their owners, they are usually cared for, even if they are sometimes seen as disposable once their competing days are at an end. (This was something they also noticed with some people involved in quarter horse racing, but they did not treat their own race horses this way.) Joe did have concerns about the ways some bull riders, and some who rode horses in rodeo events, thought and talked about the animals. While some expressed an attitude of domination, Joe never talked this way himself, and he did not condone it. I witnessed such talk (and action), though, at a bull-riding event I attended. Some of the riders talked about the bulls in derogatory ways, several taunted the bulls when they were in their pens, and one owner expressed disgust about the “uselessness” of his bulls when they didn’t perform as expected. There are clearly concerns about animal welfare at such events, and there is the problem of perpetuating a relationship between humans and cattle based on domination and disregard. But this is not something that has to be the case—Joe being one notable exception to the common trend.
We also visited and interviewed Mike Warford and Tanja Oliver of Way Out West Bucking Bulls. Mike was a bull rider who rode professionally for ten years. Looking for a way to stay involved as age and injuries took their toll, he and Tanja decided to raise and compete their own bulls. They established Way Out West Bucking Bulls in 2010, and Mike hauls bulls to competitions and works as a handler. A state-of-the-art trailer for the bulls ensures they arrive at competitions in good shape and well rested. Good quality forage and feed give the bulls energy to do their job, and the bulls had shelter and a misting system to keep them cool in the heat. During our visit Mike talked about the different personalities of the bulls he’s known and handled and their intelligence. He said, “The bulls get to know the cowboys’ styles just as the cowboys learn about the bulls’ techniques.” When we went out to visit the bulls they were curious about us and several came up to the fence to have their heads scratched. Without any cows around the bulls lived peacefully together and seemed to form friendships with each other. The only thing they lacked was a pasture on which to graze. After a very successful 2015 season Mike and Tanja decided to sell their bulls to another contractor and now the bulls have pasture as well.
Bulls are glorified in contemporary U.S. culture, much as they have long been admired and worshiped. Early cave drawings of powerful aurochs speak to their size and power and there is evidence of bull worship around the world. They have also been used as sacrificial animals. Bullfighting is thought to have its roots in the worship and sacrifice of bulls, but in many cultures it is the nurturing qualities of the cow that are lauded and worshiped. Providing milk, blood, and manure, cows are seen as life-giving and life-sustaining forces. Cattle have been used as a measure of wealth and prestige. Many cultures and religions have had (and some still do have) taboos against eating beef and severe restrictions on killing cattle. The value of the cattle and their integral role in the society often resulted in their protection. One possible motivation for domestication could be the ritual significance of cattle. If one needs to have an animal for a sacrifice at a particular point in time, hunting is not a reliable method of procural (Marshall 104).
Scientists think that cattle were the last of the three common ruminants to be domesticated—around eleven thousand years ago. This may be because they rely on grass and water more than the more hardy and adaptable sheep and goats do and so were harder to keep. It may also have something to do with their size and power. Today’s cattle are thought to be descendants of aurochs who were domesticated in Asia in at least two separate domestication events. One resulted in the B. taurus group and one in the B. indicus or zebu (humped) group. As the domesticated cattle moved with human migration they had opportunities to continue mating with wild aurochs. Some studies of mitochondrial genomes show that such mixing continued well after the original domestication events. Others challenge this interpretation, insisting that such crosses would have been too hard to handle. Ancient Greek and Roman writers described aurochs as very aggressive, and Julius Caesar wrote, “These are a little below the elephant in size, and of the appearance, color, and shape of a bull. Their strength and speed are extraordinary; they spare neither man nor wild beast which they have espied” (Caesar 6.28).
Wild aurochs were regularly hunted and required a fair amount of range. As domesticated cattle and other livestock competed for this range, the aurochs moved toward extinction. They were rare by the thirteenth century, and the last known aurochs died in Poland in 1627 (Achilli). Aurochs are thought to have lived in herds of females and calves with a few adult males. Most males lived either solitary lives or in bachelor groups (Russell et al. 103). This means their lives were not unlike those of domestic cattle prior to the advent of industrial farming—or those of many rodeo bulls today.
In order to fully examine the human relationship with cattle it is important to understand the history of their domestication, their social patterns, and their interactions with their environments. That story continues to evolve as archaeology is supplemented with genetic evidence, but it is clear that there were multiple domestication events from wild aurochs and that modern cattle still retain the same social structure as their wild ancestors. So, it is not unnatural to keep bulls together in social groups separate from cows. It is not unnatural to have herds composed of cows and their offspring. Keeping a bull on his own is natural as well (though this may not suit a particular individual). These are important considerations to keep in mind. So too are the intelligence and social lives of cattle.
While many people are fascinated with accounts of the intelligence and emotional lives of apes, elephants, whales, and dolphins, there is still general disbelief when it comes to accounts of the intelligence and emotions of livestock animals. Jeffrey Masson’s book The Pig Who Sang to the Moon: The Emotional World of Farm Animals points out, however, that there is no large physiological or evolutionary break between livestock and their wild ancestors or cousins. The only break is in our attitudes. The philosophy behind his main argument has a lot in common with pragmatism, with its focus on embodied, evolutionary processes. He argues that wild animals have intelligence and emotions (which is supported by their physiology and how they survive), that domesticated livestock are not far removed from their wild ancestors in terms of their physiology, and therefore that domesticated livestock also have intelligence and emotions. He goes on to critique how we breed, raise, and slaughter these same creatures—practices carried out with close to total disregard for their intelligence and emotional lives. For example, he writes, “To the extent that you prevent an animal from living the way he or she evolved to live, you are creating unhappiness for that animal. All farm animals, it turns out, from chickens to cows, have evolved to have offspring and guide them through their infancy” (2–3). This is not a practice allowed in contemporary CAFOs. Using Mark Johnson’s view (discussed in chapter 2), I would say this is a failure of morality from a pragmatist perspective. It is a failure of humans to acknowledge the moral impulses of the livestock animals themselves and it is a failure of humans to fully embrace their own embodied and interconnected moral status.
What’s most interesting here is that the characteristics that make an animal a candidate for domestication are the very characteristics that might make one ascribe intelligence, emotion, communication, and consciousness to those animals. Domestication was and is the result of the similarity and compatibility of these other animal beings with human beings. But they mainly live in circumstances that deny or frustrate these very characteristics. It is also interesting that these are the very characteristics being used to argue for personhood for certain other, nondomesticated animal beings, such as apes. Cows, sheep, goats, chickens, pigs, and fish also share in recognizable emotions and intelligence.
In 2012 a prominent group of scientists signed the Cambridge Declaration on Consciousness. This Declaration states, “Convergent evidence indicates that non-human animals have the neuroanatomical, neurochemical, and neurophysiological substrates of conscious states along with the capacity to exhibit intentional behaviors. Consequently, the weight of evidence indicates that humans are not unique in possessing the neurological substrates that generate consciousness. Non-human animals, including all mammals and birds, and many other creatures . . . possess these neurological substrates.” Research documenting empathetic responses in chickens supports the conclusion of these scientists, as does research documenting pleasure in cows who are learning a task, anticipation of pain and stress in pigs, and joy and depression in fish. All these animals have signals and forms of communication that allow them to navigate their social settings and they all have behaviors that are frustrated by the current practices of industrialized farming. While many people see domesticated animal beings as somehow less than their “wild” counterparts—less intelligent, less flexible, less emotionally complex—this view does not accord with the facts. While pragmatist philosophers (especially Peirce and, eventually, Dewey) were clear that such animals were beings with unique personalities, emotions, and intelligence, there is a long history, especially in philosophy, of denying intelligence and emotions to those animals who have long been used for meat and milk. That denial has no basis in reality.
The recognition that livestock animals have personalities, emotions, and intelligence is nothing new. It is what allowed for domestication in the first place, and for the long-standing and mutually transformative relationships between humans and livestock discussed in chapter 1. This recognition has always given some people pause about the condition and uses of livestock (and other) animals, and throughout human history there have been calls to improve animal welfare or to end the human use of other animal beings. While one can reduce the amount of death entailed in the support of one’s life, such death cannot be eliminated altogether. As discussed, even vegan diets involve the death of many beings. In some cases the raising and slaughtering of a cow may sustain more life, with less death, than does the production of a soy burger. That said, increasing recognition of, and insight into, the personalities, emotions, and intelligence of cattle and other livestock should give us pause and impress upon us the gravity of raising and killing animals for food and fiber when we realize they can also be friends. As already discussed, many of the farmers we interviewed ate less meat after they started to raise and kill the animals themselves. The recognition of the complex lives of livestock animals results in increased respect and responsibility. This seems more existentially in tune with the reality of human interdependence with the rest of nature than do moves to grant some (but not all) animals rights that require humans to not use them—and especially to not kill them.
That is not to say that nothing can be gained from discussion and debate from a rights perspective. Ecofeminist theorist A. Breeze Harper argues that exploring the connections between the rights of women and minorities in the United States points to a need to change our relationships with other animal beings. She is joined in this call by others, such as Delicia Dunham, who notes that “many of us black female vegans realize that much of how non-human animals are treated in the USA frighteningly parallels the way black females were treated during chattel slavery.” Dunham supports this comparison with the observation that the animals “are given no choice of mate; they are forced to engage in sexual activity with one another while their ‘master’ watches, to live in separate quarters from loved ones and to give birth to beings who are promptly taken away and sold to other plantations. They are forced to suckle beings not their own for the benefit of others” (44). Harper argues that making this comparison diminishes black people only for those with speciesist views that rest on the idea that animals don’t matter. Harper experiences the same moral outrage about human slavery as about nonhuman slavery and argues that unmindful eating perpetuates injustice and ecological harm. Harper holds that in order to overcome sexism, heterosexism, classism, racism, and speciesism, people must think carefully about what we consume and “must extend our antiracist and antipoverty belief to all people, nonhuman animals, and Mother Gaia” (“Social Justice” 29). Such an extension, however, need not entail legal rights similar to those attributed to most humans. It is possible to respect the lives, needs, and desires of various livestock animals and still engage in some types of farming. Breeding can occur more freely and offspring can be left with their mothers in many versions of nonindustrialized farming.
In her book Governing Animals, Kimberly K. Smith argues that the concepts of personhood and rights do not offer the best approach to improving human relationships with other animals. While she thinks it’s important to promote animal welfare and humane stewardship as a way to combat the increasing commodification and exploitation of other animals, she doesn’t think person-hood status is necessary or a good idea. In her view such beings lack autonomy and so are not persons; they do, however, have some natural rights that deserve to be respected since the animals have minds and life plans (what Dewey described as “careers” unique to an individuality—discussed in chapter 1). All that is needed by her account is to include other animal beings in the moral community—something she thinks has increasingly happened.
She argues that there is an emerging sense that other animal beings deserve protection from neglect, abuse, and cruelty but that to define neglect, abuse, and cruelty in such ways as would suit the drafting of enforceable laws would actually be counterproductive and probably not improve the lives of those harmed: “I claim here only that there is sufficient consensus to claim the existence of a public philosophy concerning animals: Viewing (some) animals as members of the social contract is consistent with and makes sense of most of our laws, our widespread social practices, our typical ways of talking about animals in public discourse, and well-documented measures of public opinion” (49). This is most clearly true, she argues, for those animals with whom humans have relationships. These are the animals deserving of governmental protection. For her this includes all domesticated animals as they are interdependent with humans but unequal. This makes them vulnerable and at risk of subordination (53). She lists pets, birds at a feeder, zoo animals, and some wild animals as meeting the criteria for such protection. She also includes livestock in the social contract: “They live with us in close relations of interdependence and mutuality, and . . . have historically received the highest level of government protection. But many will find this position counterintuitive. After all, we often keep livestock in crowded, unhealthy conditions where they cannot develop physically or socially in their characteristic way. And then we slaughter them and eat them. It seems inapt to call them members of the social contract, in the same way that it seemed inapt, to nineteenth-century Americans, to consider slaves members of the social contract” (63). The difference Smith sees is that while slaves needed reforms that resulted in political autonomy and legal equality, livestock do not need these things to flourish—“indeed they can’t flourish without our care” (64). In her view, livestock’s natural liberties are best respected by humans practicing good animal husbandry. She asserts that most large-scale animal agriculture fails to do this and does treat animals as slaves or mere resources. On her account, these are bad farmers, but not all farming is bad.
On the question of whether killing an animal for food violates the social contract, Smith says that most farmers see killing and use as part of the contract. From the farmers’ point of view, the animals get a “comfortable and happy life until they are slaughtered.” On this view death is not a harm; “it is the inevitable price of living. What matters is the quality of one’s life, which for livestock can be quite good” (64). There is a mutual dependence and reciprocity. Given the hard work and low profits of good husbandry, Smith argues there is real affection in these relations and this position should be respected. What about respecting those who see death as a harm and find this position to be self-serving justification on the part of the farmers? Smith makes an interesting move here. She says:
People who raise livestock in this intimate, responsible, and humane manner commit themselves to a difficult and demanding job, and they make very little money from it. . . . They choose this work and this diet because they like to raise animals. By contrast, the opposing view—that we must end livestock production altogether—does sound rather self-serving to me. Instead of preserving an ancient social practice that brings us into a deeply meaningful and demanding relationship with animals, these advocates want to get rid of that relationship and the animals that are part of it. True, we may be suspicious of farmers who insist that their animals are getting a fair bargain. But we should also be suspicious of people who want to avoid ethically and emotionally demanding relationships by eliminating the creatures on the other end of those relationships. (65, italics added)
Smith sees those who want to eliminate livestock (and other domesticated animals) as involved in a kind of moral evasion. Since living out the complex relationships between humans and other animal beings is morally hard, some try to avoid the relationships altogether. I think there is some truth to her charge. Further, the call to eliminate domesticated animals is, in my view, another instance of human exceptionalism and reinforces the very hierarchy most animal advocates say they seek to dismantle. It is a way of denying the coevolution of humans and other animal beings. Further, those opposing the farming of animals often have little or no experience with those animals. They often have little contact with actual farmers as well. This limits their understanding of what might constitute a “good life” and a “good death” for these animals and they fall back on the extreme position of elimination.
Smith goes on to point out that much about current farming would need to change if human and other animal beings are to establish (or reestablish) respectful relationships of use: “Fulfilling the conditions of a reasonable domesticated animal contract asks a great deal more from us than simply ceasing to eat meat. We would have to radically reform the way we raise livestock. As citizens we would have to take a great deal more care to find out how livestock are raised and slaughtered, to agitate for their protection, and to support farmers so that they can fulfill their obligations to their animals.” For Smith this would entail economic support for the “good” farmers by buying their animal-based products. This rules out being vegan or vegetarian on her account. Further, she says, “we would have to see livestock as animals to whom the political community as a whole has a particularly broad and compelling set of obligations. This, I think, is the harder ethical choice. In my view, it is the more admirable one” (65–66). While I agree that such a diet is one possible ethical option, I do not see the need to preclude the choice to be vegan or vegetarian. However, veganism and vegetarianism do need to be informed choices. People should also realize that such diets come with a host of ethical issues of their own—labor issues, environmental issues, class issues.
Paul B. Thompson makes a claim similar to Smith’s in From Field to Fork when he argues that ethical vegetarians are actually morally irresponsible. His argument is that there are three important questions regarding animal agriculture: “Is it ethically acceptable to eat animal flesh, or to raise and slaughter animals for food? Are current farming practices acceptable? How should current practices be reformed or modified to improve animal welfare?” (134). He says ethical vegetarians answer no to question one and then fail to be involved in addressing questions two and three—and since we will not be a vegetarian society anytime soon (if ever), everyone is obligated to be involved in addressing questions two and three. I agree that everyone, no matter their personal dietary choices, needs to address current farming practices and animal welfare concerns, but I am suspicious of the view of ethical vegetarians as generally not involved in critiquing and trying to improve the lives of livestock animals. While many may focus on getting people to stop eating meat, this usually entails discussion of why the current living conditions are not acceptable. For some there will be no acceptable conditions, but more promote the consumption of more humanely and sustainably raised animals even if they themselves do not choose to consume animals. Nicolette Niman (author of Defending Beef) and Wayne Pacelle (president of the HSUS) are good examples. While I understand Thompson’s and Smith’s point that those who are committed to such changes need to provide economic support to the farmers trying to do things more humanely, I do not think economic support is the only effective option available. I do think Thompson and Smith are correct to worry about vegans/vegetarians who do not make any real distinctions among the different ways farmers approach the lives and deaths of the animals they raise and slaughter, lumping small farms in with CAFOs as if there are no relevant differences. But the same needs to be said for people who eat animal products as well. Many (some willfully) keep the image of the small farm in mind as they buy cheap industrially raised meat. Given the diversity of farming practices we need more nuanced discussions than extreme or uninformed views can allow.
Given that Smith is aiming at a public philosophy that can gain widespread support and lead to reform of the livestock industry, she concludes:
I don’t think it is deeply inappropriate or counterintuitive to consider livestock members of the social contract. On the contrary, if we are going to raise animals for food, we must consider them members and accept all the responsibilities that entails. Granted, many people will find my reasoning unpersuasive and conclude that vegetarianism is the only ethically defensible choice. This is reasonable as a matter of personal ethics. . . . But here we are concerned with fashioning a public philosophy, one that can find support broad and deep enough to justify extensive government regulation of the livestock industry. (66)
The current industrial livestock industry sees these animal beings purely as commodities—as economic resources. Given the property rights of those who own the livestock, and their economic goals, many practices that do not support the animal’s well-being come to be justified and are now common practice. While many think we need to replace animals’ property status with personhood, this is not the best option according to Smith. She agrees that not all things or beings should be treated as commodities, but she thinks some things and beings can, in part, be treated as commodities. She thinks that animals should never be reduced to commodities. However, she thinks that the value of the animal as property can be used to give the guardian of the animal rights that can be used to respect it. (This same argument is made by the Cat Fanciers Association in response to animal rights activists who resist the idea of owning pets.)
Interestingly, Smith rejects a future with lab-grown “in vitro” meat, which some animal advocates support on the grounds that it would end the suffering and deaths (and lives) of live animals. Instead she hopes for a future with “small-scale, sustainable operations that respect the cultural meaning of livestock and maintain, in improved form, traditional practices of animal husbandry. Grass-fed bison ranches, urban livestock production, or even hunting could also figure in a defensible vision of a better, more fully realized animal welfare society” (126). Rather than seek rights for animal beings and use coercion to change practices, she hopes to achieve this future by continuing to improve our understanding of animal psychology and physiology. She thinks this has already done much to improve the lives of livestock and argues for continued improvement (138). The focus should be on protecting the vulnerable and helping them flourish. Since we are ecologically and socially interdependent beings, better stewardship is what is needed (166). That entails treating animals not as mere things, nor as persons, but as “fellow creatures, co-inhabitants of our ecological and social spaces. They form a wildly diverse set, differing among themselves in terms of physical, emotional, intellectual, social, and, accordingly, moral characteristics. Our laws and practices must attend to those differences, as well as their similarities to and differences from humans” (xiv).
Smith’s approach has much in common with a pragmatist approach as it is rooted in an understanding of the natural and developmental histories of the animals, demonstrates a respect for the animals’ emotions and intelligence, and seeks to ameliorate their lives and their complex relationships with humans. Her reliance on social contract theory, however, presents some problems. Interestingly these are problems shared by the calls for personhood as well. One concern with these debates about personhood and the social contract is that they rest on a model of humans as rational autonomous beings with a free will that is guided by conscious and deliberate choices. As Mark Johnson has argued, however, this is not an accurate picture of human beings. So, concepts of personhood that rest on demonstrating some specific degree of reason or autonomy are flawed approaches. Since social contract theory generally rests on this view of persons, it too is a flawed approach.
Pragmatists and feminists alike have critiqued social contract theory for relying on a notion of a rational, autonomous, atomistic individual in competition with others. The story of the “contract” is that such individuals, using rational self-interest, agree to be governed (give up some freedoms) in return for protection of their life and property (security). Women and non-Europeans were not considered fully rational, and so they were not parties to this “contract” but were rather part of the property that was to be protected—as were animals. It doesn’t work to just add them in as full citizens since the theory relies on their being less than full citizens. Carol Pateman’s The Sexual Contract and Charles Mills’s The Racial Contract provide excellent discussions of these issues and point to some serious flaws that should give one pause when appealing to social contract theory today. Most pragmatists and ecofeminists agree that the exclusion of groups of humans is a serious flaw in social contract theory, as is the description of the individual on which the theory relies. Pragmatists and ecofeminists generally understand the individual to be social, interdependent, and emotional as well as rational. What is important here is to realize that humans fail to be persons on most accounts of what personhood entails for such theories because we are not fully rational or autonomous. Given this, social contract theory and its underlying concept of the individual are not the best ideas to use to argue for respectful treatment of human or other animal beings. Further, the expansion of consideration on this model still tends to privilege those beings who are seen as like humans in having some particular kind of rational capacity or intelligence—for instance, apes, elephants, and dolphins. Pigs might make the list, but probably not sheep, cattle, chickens, or fish. Further, as Val Plumwood notes, such approaches privilege animals generally and make no room for various forms of vegetation. For these reasons, though I see some insights coming from wrestling with views like those of Harper and Smith, I do not take the approach of arguing for rights or personhood here, nor do I argue for including livestock (or other animal beings) in some version of a social contract.
Instead, I suggest that humans spend more time coming to understand livestock animals in a more fully developed way in their own right and as interdependent with human beings. This entails understanding the lives of the wild ancestors of these animals as well as the processes of domestication and the mutually transformative nature of those various histories (and ongoing stories) of domestication. It also means facing problems that emerge for human and other animal beings (given our shared vulnerabilities) as our relationships change over time. As Mark Johnson’s Deweyan-inspired approach to morality suggests, “Refusal to examine our changing situation is a form of self-inflicted moral blindness” (212). Today human relationships with livestock animals are not good. As discussed in previous chapters, they are not good for most livestock animals, who cannot live a full life or have a good death. They are not good for many of the humans who make a living by working in slaughterhouses, feedlots, or production facilities. They are not good for consumers or for the environment. It is also the case that relationships between the animal-production industry (it is really not agriculture at this point) and those who critique the practices of this industry are not good. In many cases we have two entrenched camps fighting for the mind, heart, and stomach of the consumer.
For example, the Animal Agriculture Alliance say they seek to help inform the public about the importance of animal agriculture and the steps being taken to ensure that animal products are safe and produced in a humane manner. They also seek to combat animal rights efforts: “Radical activist organizations are leading the fight to grant animals the same legal rights as humans and eliminate the consumption of food and all other products derived from animals. The ideology of the animal rights movement—that animals are not ours to own, enjoy, or use in any way—is a direct assault on farmers and pet owners. Activists often hide their true agenda in order to gain the support of unknowing pet lovers.” There is a clear tone of suspicion and antagonism in this statement. They go on to say that they provide “current updates from the world of animal rights. The Alliance monitors the activities of these activist groups and seeks to proactively engage in the same areas they target to correct misinformation and tell the true story of agriculture. The 2015 Animal Rights Conference Report can be found in our resource library as a members-only document.” Despite what they say, their list includes many groups that do not endorse the rights-based (personhood-based) approach but rather focus on a set of welfare and environmental concerns. That the Alliance monitors such groups and writes secret reports about their work speaks volumes to the current inability of most to engage in the kind of inquiry Dewey’s approach to ethics requires. The recent efforts to pass “ag gag” laws to criminalize attempts to document and make public some of the conditions in which these animals live and die further limits the possibility of productive conversation and critique. On the other side, some of the animal advocacy groups also dig into extreme positions that take the worst actions of the industry as the norm.
While generally disregarded as one of those “useless” college majors, the discipline of philosophy has been particularly active and effective with regard to animal and environmental concerns. Professional philosophers have taken up these issues in their work, and animal and environmental activists have used philosophers’ writing to support their own positions and actions. Unfortunately, much of this philosophical work has been done within a framework of moral theory in which some kind of universal moral principle can be consulted to guide actions. This moral examination occurs primarily through the use of reason to arrive at context-free, absolute, and universal positions. It should not be surprising, then, that those involved in animal issues tend to endorse some kind of absolutistic thinking that does not make room for nuance and situational factors.
In his book Dewey, Steven Fesmire shows the need for a Deweyan ethic rooted in imagination, empathy, and thoughtful inquiry. But most ethical theory has accepted the idea that there is one “fundamentally right way to organize moral reflection” (119). This has resulted in competing theories such as rights-based ethics, utilitarian ethics, and virtue ethics, but they all share the commitment that there is one theory that can cover the range and complexity of moral issues. Dewey, as a pluralist, sees important insights in all of these approaches but thinks no one alone can grapple with the complexity of lived moral experiences and choices. He holds that such theories are important tools that can “have practical value for streamlining moral deliberations” (122) but that we should be careful not to fall prey to their desire for one foundational, certain, and absolute moral principle or their desire for one certain and absolute moral decision in the face of life’s complexity.
Fesmire gives a nice example of the problem when he discusses the moral stance of Joel Salatin’s view (discussed in chapter 4) and that of veganism. Salatin challenges industrial agriculture by calling for rotational grazing of animals, while vegans challenge industrial agriculture by calling for the end of all animal agriculture. These two approaches share a common focus but different solutions. Fesmire argues that they also share a common problematic attitude—that they both are absolutist approaches that fail to take note of the complexity and pluralism the world presents. Fesmire writes, “Salatin is no pragmatist in his ethics. He wields the sword of righteousness. For example, he argues that the ‘right’ diet must be based on grass-fed animal husbandry if it is to mimic perennial natural cycles, so it must include meat” (138). Salatin fails to be pragmatist because he sees only one right way to think and reason about the issues, and only one right answer. In comparison, Fesmire says, “Ironically, vegan abolitionists share the same assumption when they argue that ‘meat is murder’ and that all animal agriculture is slavery that violates animal rights” (139). While both food choices are possible outcomes of particular moral inquiry, the problem here is that the attitude of absolutism cuts off inquiry rather than encourages it. The problem Fesmire presents is that “moral zealots are often fearful of ambiguity and so cling desperately to settled codes as fixed compass points” (148). While moral theories (and political theories such as social contract theory) generally seek to unsettle such zealotry they often replicate it with a focus on a single moral principle. Dewey’s pluralistic approach disrupts this tendency and calls on people to “become more imaginative and responsible” as they wrestle with complex and changing problems (145).
The pragmatist approach to ethics sketched here, and in chapters 1 and 2, challenges the paradigm of universal moral theories and absolutist positions. I believe this approach is a better fit for the lived experience of humans. I also believe it is an approach that is particularly helpful in situations where groups have become entrenched in opposed positions. To support this claim I will begin an examination of some of the issues already raised concerning cattle.
Discussions of cattle are complicated and emotionally laden from the start. As already noted, cattle, and the horses and cowboys associated with them, make up a large part of the “myth of America.” The story behind the myth is more complicated, however. Cattle not only have provided material support for life, but they also have been used as political weapons in fights over land (e.g., fights between colonists and Native peoples, fights between cattle ranchers and sheep ranchers, and fights between ranchers and wild horse advocates). Cattle have been demonized as causing climate change and lauded as one of the most environmentally friendly sources of food. Cattle are seen as competing with wildlife and as promoting biodiversity. I could go on. The point is that when there are this many conflicting positions, and people who passionately land on one side of the issue or the other, we have a “problem” in the Deweyan sense. Society is at a juncture when old habits are being unsettled and new habits have not solidified.
As Johnson points out much of the work regarding what we should and shouldn’t do needs to take place in understanding “the problem.” People tend to think they have the right take on “the problem,” and so the solution they support is obviously correct. Here enter moral absolutes and entrenched, “sedimented” positions. Rather than feeling compelled to take a particular stance on the issues presented above, people should see such complex situatedness as an invitation to inquiry. This inquiry is likely to reveal that there is some “truth” in most of the positions. Now what?
Taking the issue of cattle’s impact on wildlife, it is probably the case that grazing cattle in some places, in some particular well-managed ways, can increase the health of the soil, grasses, and the various life-forms who depend on these. We saw this with many of the farms we visited. At the same time, even in these places with these practices, it is likely there will emerge tensions between the lives of the cattle and the lives of plants and other animals who share the land. Finding ways to promote productive coexistence and the flourishing of multiple kinds of beings is an end-in-view that could work (and has worked in some cases) to get ranchers and environmentalists to work together to find ways to balance these interests. Getting rid of the cattle might be less environmentally helpful than having some cattle, but killing predators might harm the ecosystem (not to mention those animals). Killing wolves, for example, often devastates the social structure of particular packs, increasing predation as those wolves who remain try to survive. Without the education and guidance of the pack, individuals who are young, desperate, or both will often turn to livestock as easy prey. So it can be in the interests of wolves, cattle, cattle ranchers, environmentalists, and animal advocates to find ways to support intact wolf packs.
This can only work, however, if ranchers, environmentalists, and animal advocates can talk with each other. That requires an openness to other people’s perspectives, a willingness to acknowledge that one doesn’t have all the information or answers, a sense that situations and positions can change (and so habits need to change), and the ability to be flexible and experiment with different approaches. In this experimentation many views such as the land ethic, deep ecology, ecofeminism, a care ethic, and an agrarian ethic (and more) will be valuable resources—not in terms of giving answers but in terms of raising issues and pushing conversations. This is an ongoing process, not something to be fixed and finished.
Nor is any one perspective universalizable. The approaches that work in one time and place will probably not work in another. We must ask not only what works but also for whom it works. Cattle grazing that “worked” for the U.S. government did not “work” for Native Americans; what “works” for industrial agriculture does not “work” for cattle or many consumers. With added human population, changing weather patterns, and competing land use claims, there can be no simple return to some past practice (even if that were desirable). What works in the mountains of Wyoming won’t work on the plains of Nebraska or the plateaus of New Mexico. These “solutions” are shaped by places, histories, politics, and specific circumstances. There is no one-size-fits-all. Aldo Leopold noted this when he complained about government officials in Washington, DC, trying to set policies for wildlife conservation and land use that fit the whole nation. Leopold thought that people needed to be invested in local land in order to effectively change their habits and attitudes from a use perspective to an interdependence and respect perspective. He said, “This face-about in land philosophy cannot be imposed on landowners from without, either by authority or by pressure groups. It can develop only from within, by self-persuasion, and by disillusionment with previous concepts.” In other words you can’t force people to change their habits. He also thought there can’t be general solutions to particular problems. Particular ecosystems have particular and changing needs that a national policy cannot take into account. He wrote, “A wildlife plan is a constantly shifting array of small moves, infinitely repeated, to give wildlife due representation in shaping the future minds and future landscapes of America” (Leopold and Schwartz 198). This requires ongoing conversation and experimentation in order to make things better.
The same kind of analysis applies to how the cattle themselves are born, live, and die. Before humans could provide sophisticated nutritional and medical interventions in the lives of cattle, the only way to successfully raise them was to house and care for them in ways that promoted their capacity to give birth independently, protect their offspring, resist parasites and disease, and put on weight. This meant leaving calves with cows, providing enough room to graze so that manure (and parasites) did not become concentrated, and giving them time (years) to grow. This respected their intelligence and emotional connections too. While the cattle industry in the United States moved to an early division of the calf/cow operations and the feeding operations, the cattle still had to be kept in health-promoting ways until close to the end of their lives. This can be contrasted with today’s quick-finishing cattle who don’t live long enough to create the need to raise them in healthful ways. The breeding cows (and bulls) are a more long-term investment and these are the cattle more commonly living lives that fit their physical and social needs.
It is not hard to get those cattle ranchers who specialize in calf/cow operations to find some common ground with animal advocates. They have long-term relationships with the cattle and are invested (financially and emotionally) in their welfare. Those who focus on feeding operations (and sometimes supply “the genetics” to promote fast growth) see welfare in a more limited way—are the cattle well enough to gain weight? Those who slaughter and process cattle are more focused on the carcass size and quality. For them, as welfare issues can impact size and quality they do get some consideration—mostly, however, they address welfare concerns in order to avoid bad press or fines. With the life of the cattle divided up in these ways it is difficult to get any consensus on how the lives of cattle could be improved, much less a willingness to invest in changes that would improve their lives.
One way to start reintegrating the lives of cattle, though, might be to link the interests (financial and moral) of the various aspects of the industry. This is what Niman tries to do in Defending Beef. She realizes that the market for their grass-fed beef is limited by the public’s concerns with the beef industry as a whole. While lack of public confidence in feedlot production gave rise to the market for grass-fed operations, it also causes people who aren’t clear about these distinctions to lump all beef in the same basket and see beef as bad. She thinks the beef industry as a whole needs to work together and make changes that address the public’s concerns about animal welfare and the environment. Such changes would probably entail longer lives on pastures and quicker, healthier, more sustainable finishing operations. This would require ongoing discussion among all those in the industry and then between those in the industry and the industry’s critics.
The process of slaughtering and processing would also need to be addressed. One advantage of some feeding operations is that they are next to the slaughtering facility. This decreases the stress involved in transporting the cattle. If these facilities are well designed, the cattle can be kept calm until stunned. If stunned properly, the slaughter can be painless. But none of this can be done at the scale and speeds of today’s slaughter lines. There would also need to be a willingness to reexamine the move to more centralized slaughter facilities that are owned by the same companies that own the finished cattle. These issues, however, are “problems” for all the meat industries and will be examined in subsequent chapters, especially chapter 10.
To further consider a pragmatist ecofeminist approach to living with livestock I will now turn to the lives and deaths of other livestock animals. The “problems” presented by cattle may seem much easier to address than the problems with pigs and poultry. Among the most common livestock, cattle and other ruminants usually have better lives than do pigs and poultry. By “better” I mean lives that more fully support the needs and desires of the particular species, breeds, and individuals and acknowledge the animals as distinct social individuals. This allows for a more nuanced approach to their care and potentially a more respectful approach to their death and use. This is what is necessary for any meaningful amelioration of the lives (and deaths) of livestock.