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As the price of eggs escalates, so too does the practice of culling. This term, often used in a detached manner, belies the grim reality faced by countless birds. Amid discussions of alternatives and inflation concerns, millions of chickens endure deaths so brutal they would be considered criminal if perpetrated on a pet chicken. These deaths, brought about by methods like intentional overheating and carbon dioxide asphyxiation, are neither quick nor compassionate. Instead, they represent a calculated industry practice obscured by terminology, highlighting a significant gap between our societal values and the hidden costs of our food.
This contrast is striking: our ability to analyze economic shifts while remaining oblivious to the suffering responsible for them.
This induced suffering isn’t justified by need but is instead a matter of convenience.
Having some background in animal care, I recognize the potential for compassion when we view animals as individuals rather than merely as production units. My early experiences working in my father’s veterinary clinic shaped my understanding of humane treatment. I began with basic tasks like cleaning and progressively became more involved in animal care, observing my father as he handled a variety of pets. For three decades, I witnessed him comfort animals, both cherished pets and those in distress. He performed euthanasia with compassion, ensuring a peaceful end for those in pain, believing they deserved dignity in their final moments.
This philosophy informed every action in his practice: minimizing suffering, acknowledging fear, and treating each animal as a unique being deserving of care. No creature was merely a statistic; each had a name, a story, and a network of individuals invested in their wellbeing. This is the essence of humane treatment when applied genuinely.
The memory of that compassionate care is starkly contrasted with the grim reality of American industrial agriculture, where approximately 400 million hens are kept in confinement. These animals are seen as disposable units, often slaughtered at around 18 months when their egg production declines. In the broiler chicken sector, the situation is equally dire, with birds bred to grow at unsustainable rates, leading to physical ailments and suffering that we have come to accept in pursuit of profit.
Upon the arrival of H5N1 in these facilities, our response showcases a troubling ethical decline. Standard industry protocols involve mass culling techniques so prone to cruelty that they would be categorized as animal abuse in any other context. Methods such as foam suffocation can take an agonizingly long 14 minutes for a chicken to die. Another method, referred to as “ventilation shutdown plus” (VSD+), involves disabling ventilation systems, allowing temperatures to soar over 104 degrees while injecting carbon dioxide. This process is torturous, resulting in prolonged suffering and convulsions before death occurs, showcasing how our agricultural practices can seek expedience over compassion.
These extreme practices are documented in regulatory frameworks and endorsed by agricultural authorities, lacking any ethical grounding.
The acceptance of mass culling began in earnest during the mid-20th century, coinciding with the rise of industrial farming. Initial disease-control measures evolved in the 1940s and 1950s and became standard practice by the 1970s as factory farming gained traction, creating conditions ripe for disease outbreaks. Following severe outbreaks in the late 20th century, the USDA established “depopulation” policies that favored speed and cost-effectiveness over humane treatment. The avian flu crisis of 2014-2015 marked a pivotal moment, solidifying VSD+ as an accepted method, embedding it deeper into our agricultural system. The consolidation of industry has contributed to this trend, as a few large corporations prioritize profit over animal welfare. What was once an emergency endpoint has morphed into routine procedure.
Yet, public discourse surrounding egg production remains fixated on logistics and meal adaptability. Major media outlets present egg substitutes and economic analysis as though we’re merely facing a temporary inconvenience rather than scrutinizing the severe suffering endured by millions of birds. Deaths are treated as mere statistics, abstract notions strung together as collateral of our breakfast habits.
Our approach to avian influenza signifies more than just ineffective policy; it reflects a significant deficit in empathy, revealing our reluctance to acknowledge suffering that may require us to alter our behaviors.
In contrast, countries like the Netherlands have adopted slightly more humane practices instead of VSD. Dutch farmers now employ mobile nitrogen chambers that sedate birds before death occurs, significantly reducing distress. The U.K. uses controlled atmosphere killing (CAK) systems to ensure birds lose consciousness prior to asphyxiation. Other nations, like Belgium, combine foam techniques with pre-stunning to minimize awareness during the process.
The principles behind humane culling are accessible. The guidelines from the American Veterinary Medical Association specifically recommend that VSD should only be a last resort when other options are untenable. Yet, in the U.S., economic considerations consistently overshadow welfare concerns. More humane alternatives may incur additional costs that, when scaled up, become unmanageable in an industry tightly focused on efficiency.
It is essential to confront the reality of our food sources and the individuals involved in their production. Our responses to animal disease expose not just systemic failures but a deep-seated inability to empathize—an inclination to disregard the suffering of those we consume while lamenting the plight of companion animals.
We must ask ourselves what a food system rooted in compassion would look like, one that acknowledges and respects the lives of the animals involved.
Reflecting on my father’s veterinary practice, I see the stark difference with the industrial methods prevalent today. Where suffering was minimized and each animal respected, the disconnect is glaring when we consider our treatment of farm animals versus our pets.
We cannot ethically sustain a system that regards sentient beings as mere components of production destined for suffering. The practices we see today aren’t deviations but rather a result of viewing animals as commodified entities devoid of the capacity for pain and fear. We need to contend not only with the deaths of these animals but with whether the conditions leading up to that death can ever correspond to the compassion we would expect for any being under our care. Perhaps the real solution to our flawed food system lies in rethinking our entire relationship with animals.
Source
www.eater.com