It is difficult to critically question a way of life that seems normal. Despite considerable prodding, I was largely ignorant and apathetic about the lives of animals until only a few years ago. What changed my perspective was not a visceral experience of violence, nor was it a philosophic argument. Instead, I started to think critically only when I witnessed those close to me modeling the barest of moral intuitions: that animals warrant our attention and ethical consideration. As I adopted this posture, a set of economic questions arose that are almost entirely outside the standard fare for scholars of economics and public policy. The two most fundamental questions are the following. Why do so many animals live such short lives in terrible conditions? What could realistically be done to change their lives? It was my attempt, as an economist, to grapple with these questions that gave rise to this book.
While many of the difficult questions about moral obligations to animals remain strictly philosophical and theological, the question of âwhyâ animals live as they do clearly has significant economic and political dimensions. As humans have become wealthier and more productive and have adopted improved standards of living, animals under human control have consistently lived lives that are shorter and more impoverished. Yet economists have been largely silent. Many scholars have used economic tools to investigate the productivity of animal agriculture, in material terms. Many others have studied the demand for animal-derived products, including more âhumaneâ alternatives. For system-wide analyses of the place of animals, however, the field of economics has, until recently, offered very little.
There are many reasons for economistsâ silence on this topic. It has received little attention in public policy circles, and so it was not a political priority. Further, large systemic questions are out of vogue in the discipline, which favors well-defined, focused, empirical questions. The most important reason for economistsâ silence, however, is that many ethical questions are framed as personal matters, rather than as questions justice. Garner argues that this is a characteristic of modern liberalism in the midst of moral pluralism.1 Following the American philosopher John Rawls, moral questions become issues of preferences, about which reasonable people can disagree, rather than questions of justice with accompanying obligations. Conversations about animal ethics, in this mode of thinking, are not matters of economics; they are personal matters. Economists, the reasoning goes, might care for animals, or not, but the place of animals is incidental to the work of economists. Moreover, economists have been eager to expel explicitly moral and ethical arguments from our scientific investigations for some time. The result is that there is little room in mainstream economic work for animal ethics.2
The argument of this book starts with the assumption that animals have ethically relevant interests, and humans have a corresponding moral obligation to consider those interests when making decisions. It is clear, moreover, that current economic thinking marginalizes the interests of animals, usually leaving them outside the realm of consideration. This is not just a problem with the way we think about economics. Our economy is also built in a way that systematically marginalizes the interests of animals. Just as scholars have left animals outside the realm of justice, so too our institutions are designed to give attention and consideration only to the interests of humans. It is for this reason that animal advocates have worked tirelessly to advocate on behalf of animals in formal legal and commercial settings.
Convincing people to care more about animal well-being is not enough on its own. Even if more people are convinced to treat animals well, the problem will remain. The systemic marginalization of animals extends further. I make the case here that even human interests in animal flourishing are marginalized. Consumers that desire animal-friendly products will be consistently stymied by a system that makes animals invisible and incentivizes consumption of animal products. Producers who wish to build a more humane agricultural system operate in a competitive selling environment that places severe limits on their ability to innovate in favor of animals. Researchers who would like to engage in biomedical research without engaging in damaging animal experiments will be systematically marginalized by legal regulations and because they must adopt non-standard methods. Individual preferences are not the only thing limiting animal welfare when systemic constraints limit the expression of some preferences and encourage others.
In this context, I examine the prospects for individual action. In some cases, individuals can make a significant difference, and many have already done so. In other cases, progress requires coordination, and policy changes are required before people will be free to express preferences for respecting animals. Some policy changes are minimal, such as changing government subsidies or providing better product labeling. Most animal lives will remain unchanged, however, until significant regulations limit human use of animals. Absent such regulations, competition will usually reward those producers that prioritize profitability over animal well-being. The most fundamental economy-wide progress will require a significant change in what it means for a human to own an animal. Piecemeal regulations that limit the worst practices will be minimally effective if the law only recognizes the interests and standing of humans.
In some ways, the case I make is a critique of our economic system. Some of the elements that are central to market economies are at the heart of the problem. Specialization, competition, and technological development all contribute to animal exploitation. These things largely explain why many animals live lives that are clearly worse than their counterparts only 100 years ago.3 My goal, however, is not to argue for a wholesale replacement of the system, or to argue that animal exploitation is a symptom of a wholly unjust system. Other scholars have made this case, but notably, economists have not.4 It is not fair to say that the problem is âcapitalism,â for a couple of reasons. First, it is not clear that there is a viable alternative to market economies that would be particularly better for animals and not significantly worse for humans. While plenty of societies have existed across time that are or were friendlier to animals, none of these seem to be scalable alternatives to the present system.
The second reason why this book will not advocate a wholesale rejection of capitalism is that doing so usually requires glossing over the vast possibilities that exist within what could be called a âmarket economy.â The essential elements of modern market economies need not be anthropocentric. For example, in order to build an economy that includes animal interests, it may be necessary to rule out large swaths of current commercial practice. Current animal agriculture practices are notable candidates for elimination. Changes of this type would be dramatic for some individuals, but the economic system would not be threatened. The structure of the economy would remain much the same. Similarly, we could give substantial legal protections for animals, protections that limit human interactions with animals to those that are clearly beneficial to the animal, and commerce would continue in the same way it does today. These substantive changes would alter the distribution of economic benefits in ways that favor animals, but would do so in the context of a market system. One of the main purposes of this book, in fact, is to point to a public policy path that would dramatically change the character of the economy for animals, while retaining the responsiveness and productivity of our current market institutions.
If this case I am trying to make seems ideologically inconsistent, it is only because radical political movements are often allied, and the pro-animal movement is often closely connected to other radical movements that seek to fundamentally change our economic system. For this reason, it is worth considering carefully some of the economic language that will be common in this book. I freely use the term âexploitationâ to describe much human use of animals in the economy. This is not meant to be an inflammatory term, though it often serves this purpose in political literature. Instead, exploitation is a descriptive term, pointing to instances where economic or political powers are used to impose oneâs will on another for material gain. Many human agreements are often labeled as exploitation, but few of them are as clearly exploitative as the common commercial uses of animals. Similarly, I use the term âoppressionâ to describe systematic unjust treatment and control.
Imagining a market system that limits the exploitation and oppression of animals is no small undertaking. It could be done simply, at great cost, by dramatically limiting human population and separating human environments from other natural ecosystems. As long as humans and other animals are living in shared spaces, however, there will be conflicts between the interests of humans and the interests of other animals. Since humans have economic and political power that other animals do not have, there will always be a real possibility of systemic injustice toward animals. Crafting laws that protect the most basic interests of animals is only a start. It is also important to establish oversight and responsibility in such a way that individual incentives are aligned wherever possible. If successful, we could live in a world where people are free to exercise their creativity and passion without being forced into complicity with injustice.
It is important to note that I do not try to outline a consistent or innovative approach to animal ethics. Those who are not yet convinced that humans have duties toward animals should start with one of the many volumes that take up this question directly. I have found the work of Tom Regan,5 Andrew Linzey,6 and Matthew Scully7 particularly helpful though I often turn also to Martha Nussbaum8 or Peter Singer.9 These authors represent a wide community of people who have, in many different ways, made the case for human consideration of animal interests. In this volume, my philosophic approach will be eclectic. As an economist and public policy scholar, I accept the goal of improving the lives of animals, and then examine many possible proposals that could move our economy in that direction. In this process I consider many options that will have far too little an effect to be called a âsolution,â but are still worth considering.
One of the common divides in the animal ethics community is between those advocating a strict ârightsâ approach and those adopting a âwelfaristâ approach. The first camp favors the abolition of animal ownership and would not advocate improved conditions for farmed animals. The welfarist camp tends to be more pragmatic, offering compromise solutions that will make animals better off, but might leave an unjust system intact. For example, while I personally try to avoid purchasing eggs, even those that are âcage free,â because hens in these systems are still treated quite badly, I would happily entertain a proposal that would make such a system the minimal standard for the industry. I suspect that this approach places me solidly in the welfarist camp of animal advocates, since eliminating human consumption of animals is not the only goal I am willing to pursue. Moreover, near the end of the book, I propose reforms of property law, but argue that eliminating the ownership of animals is probably not an ideal solution. I accept that these arguments place me well into the moderate side of the animal ethics literature. However, I offer this caveat: I welcome the day when all that is written in this book is considered old-fashioned, or even reactionary. When that time comes, we will finally have moved policy to the point where there are real contested questions about animal rights. Then we will be able to have the conversation, as a society, about the duties that humans owe to other animals that we should have been having long ago.
Moreover, as I argue in later chapters, I find the contention that we have to choose between a âwelfaristâ and a ârightsâ position to be unconvincing. While there is some trade-off in the efforts of activists, perhaps, it is entirely consistent to aspire to the widespread recognition of animal rights while working for second-best changes whenever they become politically possible. The utilitarian and pragmatic bent of the economics discipline lends itself to policy analysis, but not to the development of pure principles. As a result, my comparative advantage as a scholar is in the analysis of human action and consequences as they relate to animal lives, and to consider the effects of the policy changes that might be possible. This is the project I take up in this book.
It is also worth mentioning, if only briefly, the language used in this book to refer to animals. I have tried to avoid overtly derogatory terms or metaphors, because there is an important sense in which our attitudes and ideas are carried in our language. Speaking and writing about animals using respectful language is a step in the right direction, all by itself. That said, I will often use the general term âanimalsâ to refer to all non-human animals as a group. When appropriate, I w...