It’s called propaganda. I remember putting that word in my notes during seventh-grade history.
In tenth-grade Animals in Agriculture elective class I encountered propaganda daily. Our class watched a video intended to “clear up” rumors about factory farming. This “documentary” showed farmers defending the practices that make their business lucrative. One veal farmer led us into the dark building where the calves were penned, explaining that the reason they were packed so closely together was so they could be with their fellows. True, they could barely move, but that way they wouldn’t hurt each other. He slapped a meaty hand on a calf’s head and explained that their welfare was his top priority.
This same video also attempted to disprove that factory farms have a negative impact on the environment. Instead of facts, the documentary employed good old Southern charm. A lanky man in a flannel shirt and a cowboy hat looked out over his fields and drawled that most people don’t buy into the idea of global warming, and that “if it does exist” it’s not caused by factory farming.
This was not the only video we were shown, but each was produced by either an agricultural association or a factory farming company – essentially, someone looking to sell a product. I was subjected to footage of chickens being debeaked, cows being dehorned, and piglets being castrated while farmers assured me that these practices were “for the animals’ own good.” One video went so far as to compare castration of a piglet to the vaccination of a child and rolled from a shot of a small, thrashing pig being held by its hind legs to a clip of a young boy crying in a doctor’s office.
From scenic views of Southern farms far from actual factory farms, to ridiculously far-fetched analogies, the propaganda was always delivered creatively. Yet throughout this indoctrination, I never heard anything as basic as a statistic. The defender of chicken debeaking did not tell us that at least 100 million laying hens are killed each year. The global warming naysayer failed to mention that factory farming is responsible for releasing at least 40 percent more greenhouse gases than all transportation worldwide. The veal farmer did not discuss the fact that his calves are taken from their mothers when they are less than a day old. And as repulsive as the close-up shots of sow insemination were, the footage these videos didn’t show was far worse.
Since leaving Animal Science class, I have seen footage of what really happens inside factory farms: workers holding undersized piglets by their legs and smacking them against the concrete floor. A dairy cow tied to a post by her nostrils, then repeatedly whacked over the head with a crowbar. A man twisting a chicken’s neck and then throwing her aside, still alive. Pigs flailing in terror as factory employees draw a knife down their throats. I have seen the cruelty of the real world of factory farming. I have seen the horrors that Animal Science class tried to gloss over.
One might ask what makes this footage more reliable than the documentaries we watched in class. The answer is in how and why these videos were produced. The answer is in money, the root of all evil. Money is what motivates the agriculture industry to make propaganda videos to keep the public ignorant and hungry for their product. By contrast, the clips showing graphic animal cruelty were shot undercover, with no smokescreen. Nation Earth’s “Earthlings,” the most extensive and informative of these documentaries, can be viewed free online at earthlings.com.
When I took Animal Science, I had been a vegetarian for five years. I knew enough to scoff at the propaganda. However, had I been armed with specifics I might have been able to speak up more in class. At least, I could have asked more questions.
For example, the general conclusion in Animal Science class was that the life of an animal is worth less than that of a human. And why not? After all, despite our exhaustive study of the avian reproductive tract, we were never taught about the intelligence of a chicken. (They perform better than most domestic pets on cognitive tests.) We belabored the difference between the rumen and the abomasum, yet we failed to discuss a cow’s excellent memory. (She can remember a face for years – including that of her stolen calf, or her distressed mother.) Our test on swine asked us to categorize the methods of artificial insemination in pigs, and yet there was no question about how this animal is smarter than a three-year-old child.
No, this sort of information would tug at our hearts, make us feel something for the animals we so often treat as insentient. This would mean that an animal isn’t worthless, which begs the question: by what factor of worth are humans better than animals? Would the death of 10 animals make you feel as bad as one human? What about 50? One hundred? Two hundred?
I wonder how my teacher would have answered that question, given that the average non-vegetarian consumes between 1,000 and 3,000 land animals in a lifetime.
I must say that the best defense against propaganda is not knowing its definition or its different methods. Rather, the best defense against propaganda is learning the truth.
