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The best way to move beyond factory farming is not about the animals

News Feed
Wednesday, August 7, 2024

The most ambitious goal of the animal movement has always been to eradicate factory farming and inspire people to eat more plants and fewer animals. This only makes sense, as the scale of the violence endemic to industrial farming radically dwarfs all other forms of animal suffering. Beyond the problem of the inevitable suffering involved in the slaughter of animals we consume, factory farming necessitates new forms of animal abuse such as intensive confinement, drugs that keep sick animals just alive enough to be profitable, and genetic modifications that induce diseases. (While genetic modification is often interpreted to mean direct edits to a genome, the USDA’s definition also includes selective breeding, the technique the factory farm industry has used to deform animals beyond recognition.) These harms to animals, as we will see, are tightly linked to harms to humans.  This story is part of How Factory Farming Ends Read more from this special package analyzing the long fight against factory farming here. This series is supported by Animal Charity Evaluators, which received a grant from Builders Initiative. But the way forward for the animal movement may be less about swelling the ranks of vegetarians and vegans — which has long been its primary ambition — and more about identifying an overlapping consensus between social movements that center animals and those that center concerns like climate change and public health. These movements share an interest in shifting toward a more plant-based food system as never before. We should also share resources and tactics.  Today, government at every level, from local to federal, actively promotes consuming high levels of animal products and the continued growth of factory farming; large portions of the legal system work primarily to defend industrial farms against ordinary citizens and public advocates rather than the other way around (for one powerful illustration of this, see the documentary The Smell of Money). Only a broad coalition can hope to change this.  Increased collaboration with the public health movement will be particularly crucial in encouraging a more plant-based food system. In the short term, though, it is emerging collaborations with the environmental movement that show the most promise. The well-known lower carbon footprint of plant-based diets — as low as a quarter of the emissions of meat-heavy diets — provides a particularly powerful form of common ground.    Let’s consider a rather extraordinary development that resulted from animal and environmental groups working together that occurred in just the last year.     A groundbreaking experiment suggests reducing US meat eating is attainable Starting last September, hundreds of American college and university dining halls serving about a million students began to systematically modify how they served food in ways designed to substantially increase the consumption of plants. The schools, which have in common the use of Sodexo as a food service provider but little else, were guided in part by a recent peer-reviewed study finding that the use of “plant-based defaults” could significantly shift diners’ choices toward plant-based foods. (One of us, Aaron, is on the board of and helped launch an organization that partnered with Sodexo on this experiment, but he was not personally involved in the project.) In the three-month study, a hot meal station in three college dining halls, two in the American Northeast and one in the South, alternated between serving a plant-based and meat-based meal by default. When a plant-based entrée was the default, diners could ask for a meat meal. Depending on how conservatively the results are calculated, on average between 21.4 and 57.2 percent fewer meat-based meals were chosen when plant-based foods were the default. And, crucially, surveys found that diners remained as satisfied as ever (something that the presence of plant-based meats seemed to have helped in this study). A range of other public and private institutions — including governments, hospitals, and businesses — around the world are experimenting with similar tactics.  Diners do not need to be ethical superheroes, or even be ethically motivated, to eat in ways more in line with their values  The basic insight being employed here is that institutional food service providers already make decisions every day that shape what their customers choose by deciding, for example, what dish to list first on the menu, what entree to make the special, and what products to most heavily promote. We diners are already being nudged by food service providers toward more profitable foods (often animal products) every time we buy food. The strategies being employed at the 400 colleges and universities in one way or another involve a decision on the part of dining services to let concerns about health and sustainability — especially climate change — influence these existing decisions about food order, placement, and so forth.  This can be thought of as behavior architecture. Just as good physical architecture is aesthetically pleasing and makes it easy to do what we have come to that place to do, good behavior architecture in dining halls, supermarkets, and restaurants helps consumers make prosocial choices — like plant-based foods with lower climate impacts — the easiest choices. Diners do not need to be ethical superheroes, or even be ethically motivated, to eat in ways more in line with their values.  Two issues raised here seem especially important. The first is to better understand how recent and unique the new overlapping consensus between animal and ecological concerns is and what is making it work. The second is to consider the potentially even more consequential, but less-developed, coalitional possibilities of animal and ecological advocates teaming up with the public health sector to advocate a shift towards plant-based diets and away from factory farming.  In an era of ubiquitous factory farming, the public health sector has its own reasons to prefer a more plant-based food system — for example, the way that factory farms promote antibiotic resistance, an escalating global crisis associated with nearly 5 million annual deaths and increase the risk of zoonotic diseases like bird flu reaching pandemic proportions. Balanced plant-based diets are also widely regarded to have health advantages (especially lowering risk for heart disease), but since these benefits are well known, here we want to emphasize the distinct advantages of a more plant-based food system, beyond the general healthfulness of plant foods.  That a more plant-based diet is better for animals isn’t enough to move policy. This same diet shift is already being used to reduce climate impacts; it could also preserve the value of antibiotics and reduce the number of new diseases we face, as well as shore up political will to transform our diets. The climate science consensus on meat reduction The nascent alliance between animal and environmental advocates on food system change is not simple. The two movements have often had different agendas. For most of our lives, mainstream environmentalism has not seriously engaged the problems with the food system, especially the problems posed by industrial meat. This is true despite the fact scientists for decades have documented the enormous role meat plays in climate change and virtually every other environmental crisis.       Some of the reasons for this hesitancy are perfectly understandable: Emissions from the energy and transportation systems had proven technological solutions, which made solving emissions in those sectors comparatively straightforward. Food, by contrast, looked like a hornet’s nest. It’s hard enough to get people to focus on climate change, which until recently has felt so abstract, distant, and slow. To add into the conversation what is one of the most uncomfortable and contentious of all social issues — the ethics of eating — would likely have been an invitation to be ignored.  But sometimes being ignored is just another way to describe being ahead of one’s time. Addressing the role of food systems in climate change was perhaps ahead of its time 20 years ago when little progress had been made in energy and transport, but no more. Recent years have seen a new willingness and a recognition of the necessity to address the climate impacts of animal products. The highly regarded EAT-Lancet Commission, a panel of nutrition, sustainability, and agriculture experts, in 2019 concluded that even if we decarbonized everything else, if we don’t address our food system, it will be impossible to meet the emissions target set by the Paris climate agreement. Global food system studies on the interventions needed to address climate change — such as the study led by University of Oxford researcher Joseph Poore published in Science or the study published by the nonprofits GRAIN and the Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy — consistently note the necessity of reducing meat consumption.  Environmental policy advocates still often remain reluctant to push these conclusions in the nitty-gritty of policy work, but this seems to us the natural reluctance before one finally rips off the Band-Aid. While the study of the Sodexo schools suggests that the experience of eating fewer animals need not reduce diner satisfaction, the idea of eating fewer animals remains politically unpopular. Suggesting eating less of anything can be branded as un-American, and conservative news outlets have made a fetish of warning that environmentalists are “coming for your burgers” even before any meaningful policies to shift diets have been enacted.       It will take considerable movement effort to transform the consensus in environmental science about the need to shift diets fully into organizational practice and policy advocacy, but we believe the case for eating more plants is now so well established that there is no turning back. Advocates in the environmental space who press for meat reduction will still often find themselves resisted; a quiet civil war is raging in the movement. There have been and will be ups and downs in that war, but we believe an invisible threshold has been crossed and that, battle by battle, policy by policy, the environmental movement is integrating the scientific consensus that meat reduction is essential to addressing climate change and many other ecological concerns.  The crucial third leg in the coalition against factory farming is public health That said, even when climate change advocates do address the problems with meat, there is the possibility of serious disagreements about the role of poultry and pork. Despite a high carbon footprint compared to plant-based foods and a load of other problems, poultry and pork meat can generally be produced at a fraction of the carbon footprint of beef. This is why we so often hear from environmentalists about the desirability of reducing beef and dairy consumption in particular: By the numbers, these industries have among the worst climate footprint of any food.       However, in terms of animal suffering, no industry is as horrific as today’s poultry industry; the pork industry is equally nightmarish, if smaller in scale (virtually all commercially available chickens and turkeys and the overwhelming majority of pig meat comes from factory farms). Modern industrial chickens have the disturbing distinction of being so genetically modified to produce more flesh and eggs that their very biology destines them to suffer from a range of diseases and incapacities (which is not to mention that it takes 100 or more individual chickens to produce as much meat as in a single cow). When climate activists suggest an overly numbers-driven approach to reducing food climate impacts, they may drive the production of more poultry and pig factory farms by recommending eating chicken or pork over beef. This is already happening.  Happily for the animal cause, though, data and research from the public health sector about the dangers of industrial poultry and pig production can ameliorate this tension. Studies show that while risks from different industries vary, if we don’t reduce animal-sourced foods, we will increase infectious disease. From the point of view of public health, the poultry industry is profoundly worrying, both because of the routine use of antibiotics that promotes antimicrobial resistance and the potential to seed a pandemic. In recent months, the H5N1 bird flu virus, which if it mutates to be able to spread among humans could make Covid-19 seem like the common cold, has leaped from birds to cattle and has infected several US dairy workers. The extreme industrialization of both the poultry and pork industries — with their use of densely packed, genetically uniform, and immunocompromised animals — is a perfect Petri dish for cultivating the next plague. Understanding how animal agriculture shapes human health The meat industry plays a pivotal role in public health. Check out Future Perfect’s coverage of meat’s impact on everything from pandemic risk to failing antibiotics to nutrition:  The meat we get from factory farms is a pandemic risk, too  The infectious disease trap of animal agriculture Big Meat just can’t quit antibiotics You probably don’t need to worry about your protein intake What a plant-based diet can and cannot do for you, explained by Netflix’s You Are What You Eat Just as climate activists have overlapping interests with animal advocates on diet change because of the high carbon footprint of animal products, public health advocates have overlapping interests because of the very basic biological fact that sick farmed animals not only suffer but can pose profound disease risk for human populations. The basic principle here is known in the international public health community as One Health, an approach that optimizes health outcomes by, in the words of the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), “recognizing the interconnection between people, animals, plants, and their shared environment.”   One Health is de rigueur in contemporary public health contexts. It is endorsed and promoted by the CDC, the World Bank, and just about every other authoritative advocate of public health. Theoretically, One Health already guides US law and policy, yet it has very little influence when it runs up against powerful political interests. One Health advocates, like animal advocates, have to contend with the power of industry; so far, sociopolitical factors like entrenched commitments to factory farming (among others) thwart the implementation of One Health frameworks. Ultimately, this means that factory farms benefit from unchecked externalities — the public rather than industry pays the immense cost of lost drugs and the cost of managing or preventing pandemics. Of course, this at least temporarily makes reducing the consumption of animal products that much harder by making them artificially cheap.  The current crisis of antibiotic use in the US meat industry dramatically illustrates how public health advocates struggle to rein in big meat and could benefit from coalition with the animal movement. For many decades, the scientific community, often emphasizing a One Health frame, has warned about the loss of lifesaving drugs because of the scale at which antibiotics are routinely administered to farmed animals. Despite high consumer demand for meat raised without antibiotics and government regulation of antibiotics in agriculture intensifying since the 2010s, the industry can’t quit antibiotics. In the factory farm system, sick animals are often more profitable than healthy ones, and sick animals need drugs to stay alive and to be profitable. This is why advocating for antibiotic-free meat without arguing for a change in production has ended up playing into the hands of industry. The problem has never been the drugs themselves, but the dismal conditions that necessitate them: The root problem is factory farming itself. What if public health concerns with the creation of antibiotic-resistant pathogens or the growth of new zoonotic diseases were taken up alongside concerns with cruelty and sustainability?  So, unsurprisingly, after a dip due to regulation starting in 2016, antibiotic use in agriculture, according to the latest FDA statistics, is ticking up again. But even this concerning growth in antibiotic sales understates the problem because a mounting body of evidence suggests that even meat labeled antibiotic-free is, illegally, often from animals that were fed drugs. A study published in Science of the US supply of antibiotic-free beef found that fully 15 percent of the meat was from animals illegally fed drugs. New evidence also suggests pork producers are using prohibited antibiotics. Despite the USDA admitting last year that antibiotic-free claims have indeed come into question, it has not yet taken corrective action. The industry is not all-powerful, but it is often more powerful than any one social movement. Divided we are conquered.  But what if public health advocates, who have long been frustrated with One Health being officially endorsed while being ignored in actual policy, worked in coordination with the nascent coalitions emerging between animal and climate groups? What if One Health concerns with the creation of antibiotic-resistant pathogens or the growth of new zoonotic diseases were taken up alongside concerns with cruelty and sustainability as a kind of third leg of the case for eating more plants and rolling back factory farming?  Something like this coalition seems the most promising direction in animal advocacy. We aren’t arguing anything novel; the power of coalitions is well documented in the social sciences, and most animal advocates are well aware of its value. But we are arguing that very recent developments, like the new willingness among environmentalists to take on the meat industry and the rise of One Health as the dominant paradigm for public health (despite failures to implement), are more important than generally understood.  The future will have to be collaborative Pulling these thoughts together, here is the paradigm shift we see unfolding: The animal advocacy movement has long argued the ethical case for ending factory farming and moving toward plant-based diets; now is the time to highlight the pragmatic advantage of these diets and to double down on coalitional efforts. A food system less dependent on factory farming and more plant-based is not just a way to advocate for animals; it is, among other things, a partial solution to climate change and to growing public health risks associated with factory farms.  We have emphasized coalition with environmentalists and One Health advocates in particular, but this is not meant to be exhaustive. As environmental justice activists know, the environmental and health harms we have noted fall disproportionately on BIPOC communities, making the factory farm a major driver of inequality and social injustice. This racialization of industrial farms has been especially well documented in North Carolina’s hog industry and points to the depth of other coalitional possibilities.   The environmental movement has helped make an unimpeachable case against beef and dairy, but it is the less-developed alliance with the public health sector that will seal the case against chicken and pig factory farms Unfortunately, it does not do much good to advocate for such coalitions generically as we are doing here. That is all too easy. What can do a lot of good — and what already has started a promising trend toward more plant-based eating at colleges and universities — is the pragmatic work of forging real coalitions. Ultimately, the default veg dining strategy employed by the 400 Sodexo schools was adopted because it was pragmatic. Shifting diets in this way achieved the dramatic reduction in climate impact that Sodexo sought in connection with its sustainability pledges, and it kept diners as happy with the food as ever, which was and is crucial to their bottom line. But even though plant-based defaults work, it is highly unlikely that Sodexo would have adopted them without the support it received from climate and animal activists. Even businesses like Sodexo, which made a climate pledge long before it started using plant-based defaults, often don’t appreciate the climate benefits of shifting diets or fear that it cannot be done without generating backlash.  This is one reason why advocacy remains crucial. Sodexo considered and finally pursued plant-based defaults only in the course of a partnership with two nonprofit advocacy groups, one coming out of the climate movement, Food For Climate League, and another — the organization we mentioned at the beginning of this essay that Aaron is connected to — out of the animal space, Better Food Foundation. A viable business case is not enough; it also needs champions.  The environmental-animal movement coalition that helped support the Sodexo changes shows that coalitions can work but not that they are abundant. In our experience, though there is a lot of goodwill toward collaboration on shifting diets among many animal and environmental advocates on the ground, this is still rarely reflected in meaningful organizational partnerships or resource sharing across movements. This is an entrenched situation and, despite the encouragement we’re giving, will not be easy to change. The present animal movement is not collaborative.  Choosing a vegetarian or vegan diet is an ethical ideal that is profoundly meaningful for some — we highly recommend it if you are so inclined. Jonathan’s book Eating Animals details his own journey into the ethics of eating (and was made into a film). But the animal advocacy movement’s success need not rest on the number of individuals who sign up for this admirable way of eating. What by contrast is essential to movement goals is the need to collectively reduce the consumption of animal products from factory farms. The environmental movement has helped make an unimpeachable case against beef and dairy, but it is the less-developed alliance with the public health sector that will seal the case against chicken and pig factory farming. Happily, the diet-shifting efforts at colleges and universities in the past year suggest, perhaps in a more visible way than ever before, that this is imminently possible — if we work in coalition. There are still miles to go, but the road to that almost impossibly ambitious goal of shifting diets is getting clearer. The future is collaborative.

The most ambitious goal of the animal movement has always been to eradicate factory farming and inspire people to eat more plants and fewer animals. This only makes sense, as the scale of the violence endemic to industrial farming radically dwarfs all other forms of animal suffering. Beyond the problem of the inevitable suffering involved […]

The most ambitious goal of the animal movement has always been to eradicate factory farming and inspire people to eat more plants and fewer animals. This only makes sense, as the scale of the violence endemic to industrial farming radically dwarfs all other forms of animal suffering.

Beyond the problem of the inevitable suffering involved in the slaughter of animals we consume, factory farming necessitates new forms of animal abuse such as intensive confinement, drugs that keep sick animals just alive enough to be profitable, and genetic modifications that induce diseases. (While genetic modification is often interpreted to mean direct edits to a genome, the USDA’s definition also includes selective breeding, the technique the factory farm industry has used to deform animals beyond recognition.) These harms to animals, as we will see, are tightly linked to harms to humans. 

This story is part of How Factory Farming Ends

Read more from this special package analyzing the long fight against factory farming here. This series is supported by Animal Charity Evaluators, which received a grant from Builders Initiative.

But the way forward for the animal movement may be less about swelling the ranks of vegetarians and vegans — which has long been its primary ambition — and more about identifying an overlapping consensus between social movements that center animals and those that center concerns like climate change and public health. These movements share an interest in shifting toward a more plant-based food system as never before. We should also share resources and tactics. 

Today, government at every level, from local to federal, actively promotes consuming high levels of animal products and the continued growth of factory farming; large portions of the legal system work primarily to defend industrial farms against ordinary citizens and public advocates rather than the other way around (for one powerful illustration of this, see the documentary The Smell of Money). Only a broad coalition can hope to change this. 

Increased collaboration with the public health movement will be particularly crucial in encouraging a more plant-based food system. In the short term, though, it is emerging collaborations with the environmental movement that show the most promise. The well-known lower carbon footprint of plant-based diets — as low as a quarter of the emissions of meat-heavy diets — provides a particularly powerful form of common ground.   

Let’s consider a rather extraordinary development that resulted from animal and environmental groups working together that occurred in just the last year.    

A groundbreaking experiment suggests reducing US meat eating is attainable

Starting last September, hundreds of American college and university dining halls serving about a million students began to systematically modify how they served food in ways designed to substantially increase the consumption of plants. The schools, which have in common the use of Sodexo as a food service provider but little else, were guided in part by a recent peer-reviewed study finding that the use of “plant-based defaults” could significantly shift diners’ choices toward plant-based foods. (One of us, Aaron, is on the board of and helped launch an organization that partnered with Sodexo on this experiment, but he was not personally involved in the project.)

In the three-month study, a hot meal station in three college dining halls, two in the American Northeast and one in the South, alternated between serving a plant-based and meat-based meal by default. When a plant-based entrée was the default, diners could ask for a meat meal. Depending on how conservatively the results are calculated, on average between 21.4 and 57.2 percent fewer meat-based meals were chosen when plant-based foods were the default. And, crucially, surveys found that diners remained as satisfied as ever (something that the presence of plant-based meats seemed to have helped in this study). A range of other public and private institutions — including governments, hospitals, and businesses — around the world are experimenting with similar tactics. 

Diners do not need to be ethical superheroes, or even be ethically motivated, to eat in ways more in line with their values 

The basic insight being employed here is that institutional food service providers already make decisions every day that shape what their customers choose by deciding, for example, what dish to list first on the menu, what entree to make the special, and what products to most heavily promote. We diners are already being nudged by food service providers toward more profitable foods (often animal products) every time we buy food. The strategies being employed at the 400 colleges and universities in one way or another involve a decision on the part of dining services to let concerns about health and sustainability — especially climate change — influence these existing decisions about food order, placement, and so forth. 

photo of a dining hall food station where Tofu Tiki Masala and cilantro basmati rice are served and a nearby sign says chicken tiki masala can be requested by asking the service staff.

This can be thought of as behavior architecture. Just as good physical architecture is aesthetically pleasing and makes it easy to do what we have come to that place to do, good behavior architecture in dining halls, supermarkets, and restaurants helps consumers make prosocial choices — like plant-based foods with lower climate impacts — the easiest choices. Diners do not need to be ethical superheroes, or even be ethically motivated, to eat in ways more in line with their values. 

Two issues raised here seem especially important. The first is to better understand how recent and unique the new overlapping consensus between animal and ecological concerns is and what is making it work. The second is to consider the potentially even more consequential, but less-developed, coalitional possibilities of animal and ecological advocates teaming up with the public health sector to advocate a shift towards plant-based diets and away from factory farming. 

In an era of ubiquitous factory farming, the public health sector has its own reasons to prefer a more plant-based food system — for example, the way that factory farms promote antibiotic resistance, an escalating global crisis associated with nearly 5 million annual deaths and increase the risk of zoonotic diseases like bird flu reaching pandemic proportions. Balanced plant-based diets are also widely regarded to have health advantages (especially lowering risk for heart disease), but since these benefits are well known, here we want to emphasize the distinct advantages of a more plant-based food system, beyond the general healthfulness of plant foods. 

That a more plant-based diet is better for animals isn’t enough to move policy. This same diet shift is already being used to reduce climate impacts; it could also preserve the value of antibiotics and reduce the number of new diseases we face, as well as shore up political will to transform our diets.

The climate science consensus on meat reduction

The nascent alliance between animal and environmental advocates on food system change is not simple. The two movements have often had different agendas. For most of our lives, mainstream environmentalism has not seriously engaged the problems with the food system, especially the problems posed by industrial meat. This is true despite the fact scientists for decades have documented the enormous role meat plays in climate change and virtually every other environmental crisis.      

Some of the reasons for this hesitancy are perfectly understandable: Emissions from the energy and transportation systems had proven technological solutions, which made solving emissions in those sectors comparatively straightforward. Food, by contrast, looked like a hornet’s nest. It’s hard enough to get people to focus on climate change, which until recently has felt so abstract, distant, and slow. To add into the conversation what is one of the most uncomfortable and contentious of all social issues — the ethics of eating — would likely have been an invitation to be ignored. 

But sometimes being ignored is just another way to describe being ahead of one’s time. Addressing the role of food systems in climate change was perhaps ahead of its time 20 years ago when little progress had been made in energy and transport, but no more. Recent years have seen a new willingness and a recognition of the necessity to address the climate impacts of animal products.

The highly regarded EAT-Lancet Commission, a panel of nutrition, sustainability, and agriculture experts, in 2019 concluded that even if we decarbonized everything else, if we don’t address our food system, it will be impossible to meet the emissions target set by the Paris climate agreement. Global food system studies on the interventions needed to address climate change — such as the study led by University of Oxford researcher Joseph Poore published in Science or the study published by the nonprofits GRAIN and the Institute for Agriculture and Trade Policy — consistently note the necessity of reducing meat consumption. 

Environmental policy advocates still often remain reluctant to push these conclusions in the nitty-gritty of policy work, but this seems to us the natural reluctance before one finally rips off the Band-Aid. While the study of the Sodexo schools suggests that the experience of eating fewer animals need not reduce diner satisfaction, the idea of eating fewer animals remains politically unpopular. Suggesting eating less of anything can be branded as un-American, and conservative news outlets have made a fetish of warning that environmentalists are “coming for your burgers” even before any meaningful policies to shift diets have been enacted.      

It will take considerable movement effort to transform the consensus in environmental science about the need to shift diets fully into organizational practice and policy advocacy, but we believe the case for eating more plants is now so well established that there is no turning back. Advocates in the environmental space who press for meat reduction will still often find themselves resisted; a quiet civil war is raging in the movement. There have been and will be ups and downs in that war, but we believe an invisible threshold has been crossed and that, battle by battle, policy by policy, the environmental movement is integrating the scientific consensus that meat reduction is essential to addressing climate change and many other ecological concerns. 

The crucial third leg in the coalition against factory farming is public health

That said, even when climate change advocates do address the problems with meat, there is the possibility of serious disagreements about the role of poultry and pork. Despite a high carbon footprint compared to plant-based foods and a load of other problems, poultry and pork meat can generally be produced at a fraction of the carbon footprint of beef. This is why we so often hear from environmentalists about the desirability of reducing beef and dairy consumption in particular: By the numbers, these industries have among the worst climate footprint of any food.      

However, in terms of animal suffering, no industry is as horrific as today’s poultry industry; the pork industry is equally nightmarish, if smaller in scale (virtually all commercially available chickens and turkeys and the overwhelming majority of pig meat comes from factory farms). Modern industrial chickens have the disturbing distinction of being so genetically modified to produce more flesh and eggs that their very biology destines them to suffer from a range of diseases and incapacities (which is not to mention that it takes 100 or more individual chickens to produce as much meat as in a single cow). When climate activists suggest an overly numbers-driven approach to reducing food climate impacts, they may drive the production of more poultry and pig factory farms by recommending eating chicken or pork over beef. This is already happening

Chart showing US per capita meat consumption more than doubling over the last 50 years while beef consumption declines by a quarter.

Happily for the animal cause, though, data and research from the public health sector about the dangers of industrial poultry and pig production can ameliorate this tension. Studies show that while risks from different industries vary, if we don’t reduce animal-sourced foods, we will increase infectious disease. From the point of view of public health, the poultry industry is profoundly worrying, both because of the routine use of antibiotics that promotes antimicrobial resistance and the potential to seed a pandemic.

In recent months, the H5N1 bird flu virus, which if it mutates to be able to spread among humans could make Covid-19 seem like the common cold, has leaped from birds to cattle and has infected several US dairy workers. The extreme industrialization of both the poultry and pork industries — with their use of densely packed, genetically uniform, and immunocompromised animals — is a perfect Petri dish for cultivating the next plague.

Understanding how animal agriculture shapes human health

The meat industry plays a pivotal role in public health. Check out Future Perfect’s coverage of meat’s impact on everything from pandemic risk to failing antibiotics to nutrition: 

Just as climate activists have overlapping interests with animal advocates on diet change because of the high carbon footprint of animal products, public health advocates have overlapping interests because of the very basic biological fact that sick farmed animals not only suffer but can pose profound disease risk for human populations. The basic principle here is known in the international public health community as One Health, an approach that optimizes health outcomes by, in the words of the US Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), “recognizing the interconnection between people, animals, plants, and their shared environment.”  

One Health is de rigueur in contemporary public health contexts. It is endorsed and promoted by the CDC, the World Bank, and just about every other authoritative advocate of public health. Theoretically, One Health already guides US law and policy, yet it has very little influence when it runs up against powerful political interests. One Health advocates, like animal advocates, have to contend with the power of industry; so far, sociopolitical factors like entrenched commitments to factory farming (among others) thwart the implementation of One Health frameworks. Ultimately, this means that factory farms benefit from unchecked externalities — the public rather than industry pays the immense cost of lost drugs and the cost of managing or preventing pandemics. Of course, this at least temporarily makes reducing the consumption of animal products that much harder by making them artificially cheap. 

The current crisis of antibiotic use in the US meat industry dramatically illustrates how public health advocates struggle to rein in big meat and could benefit from coalition with the animal movement. For many decades, the scientific community, often emphasizing a One Health frame, has warned about the loss of lifesaving drugs because of the scale at which antibiotics are routinely administered to farmed animals. Despite high consumer demand for meat raised without antibiotics and government regulation of antibiotics in agriculture intensifying since the 2010s, the industry can’t quit antibiotics. In the factory farm system, sick animals are often more profitable than healthy ones, and sick animals need drugs to stay alive and to be profitable. This is why advocating for antibiotic-free meat without arguing for a change in production has ended up playing into the hands of industry. The problem has never been the drugs themselves, but the dismal conditions that necessitate them: The root problem is factory farming itself.

What if public health concerns with the creation of antibiotic-resistant pathogens or the growth of new zoonotic diseases were taken up alongside concerns with cruelty and sustainability? 

So, unsurprisingly, after a dip due to regulation starting in 2016, antibiotic use in agriculture, according to the latest FDA statistics, is ticking up again. But even this concerning growth in antibiotic sales understates the problem because a mounting body of evidence suggests that even meat labeled antibiotic-free is, illegally, often from animals that were fed drugs. A study published in Science of the US supply of antibiotic-free beef found that fully 15 percent of the meat was from animals illegally fed drugs. New evidence also suggests pork producers are using prohibited antibiotics. Despite the USDA admitting last year that antibiotic-free claims have indeed come into question, it has not yet taken corrective action.

The industry is not all-powerful, but it is often more powerful than any one social movement. Divided we are conquered. 

But what if public health advocates, who have long been frustrated with One Health being officially endorsed while being ignored in actual policy, worked in coordination with the nascent coalitions emerging between animal and climate groups? What if One Health concerns with the creation of antibiotic-resistant pathogens or the growth of new zoonotic diseases were taken up alongside concerns with cruelty and sustainability as a kind of third leg of the case for eating more plants and rolling back factory farming? 

Something like this coalition seems the most promising direction in animal advocacy. We aren’t arguing anything novel; the power of coalitions is well documented in the social sciences, and most animal advocates are well aware of its value. But we are arguing that very recent developments, like the new willingness among environmentalists to take on the meat industry and the rise of One Health as the dominant paradigm for public health (despite failures to implement), are more important than generally understood. 

The future will have to be collaborative

Pulling these thoughts together, here is the paradigm shift we see unfolding: The animal advocacy movement has long argued the ethical case for ending factory farming and moving toward plant-based diets; now is the time to highlight the pragmatic advantage of these diets and to double down on coalitional efforts. A food system less dependent on factory farming and more plant-based is not just a way to advocate for animals; it is, among other things, a partial solution to climate change and to growing public health risks associated with factory farms. 

We have emphasized coalition with environmentalists and One Health advocates in particular, but this is not meant to be exhaustive. As environmental justice activists know, the environmental and health harms we have noted fall disproportionately on BIPOC communities, making the factory farm a major driver of inequality and social injustice. This racialization of industrial farms has been especially well documented in North Carolina’s hog industry and points to the depth of other coalitional possibilities.  

The environmental movement has helped make an unimpeachable case against beef and dairy, but it is the less-developed alliance with the public health sector that will seal the case against chicken and pig factory farms

Unfortunately, it does not do much good to advocate for such coalitions generically as we are doing here. That is all too easy. What can do a lot of good — and what already has started a promising trend toward more plant-based eating at colleges and universities — is the pragmatic work of forging real coalitions. Ultimately, the default veg dining strategy employed by the 400 Sodexo schools was adopted because it was pragmatic. Shifting diets in this way achieved the dramatic reduction in climate impact that Sodexo sought in connection with its sustainability pledges, and it kept diners as happy with the food as ever, which was and is crucial to their bottom line.

But even though plant-based defaults work, it is highly unlikely that Sodexo would have adopted them without the support it received from climate and animal activists. Even businesses like Sodexo, which made a climate pledge long before it started using plant-based defaults, often don’t appreciate the climate benefits of shifting diets or fear that it cannot be done without generating backlash. 

This is one reason why advocacy remains crucial. Sodexo considered and finally pursued plant-based defaults only in the course of a partnership with two nonprofit advocacy groups, one coming out of the climate movement, Food For Climate League, and another — the organization we mentioned at the beginning of this essay that Aaron is connected to — out of the animal space, Better Food Foundation. A viable business case is not enough; it also needs champions. 

The environmental-animal movement coalition that helped support the Sodexo changes shows that coalitions can work but not that they are abundant. In our experience, though there is a lot of goodwill toward collaboration on shifting diets among many animal and environmental advocates on the ground, this is still rarely reflected in meaningful organizational partnerships or resource sharing across movements. This is an entrenched situation and, despite the encouragement we’re giving, will not be easy to change. The present animal movement is not collaborative. 

Choosing a vegetarian or vegan diet is an ethical ideal that is profoundly meaningful for some — we highly recommend it if you are so inclined. Jonathan’s book Eating Animals details his own journey into the ethics of eating (and was made into a film). But the animal advocacy movement’s success need not rest on the number of individuals who sign up for this admirable way of eating.

What by contrast is essential to movement goals is the need to collectively reduce the consumption of animal products from factory farms. The environmental movement has helped make an unimpeachable case against beef and dairy, but it is the less-developed alliance with the public health sector that will seal the case against chicken and pig factory farming. Happily, the diet-shifting efforts at colleges and universities in the past year suggest, perhaps in a more visible way than ever before, that this is imminently possible — if we work in coalition. There are still miles to go, but the road to that almost impossibly ambitious goal of shifting diets is getting clearer. The future is collaborative.

Read the full story here.
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Environmental Group Tries to Rebuild Sinking Coastline With Recycled Oysters

A Native American tribe along the Louisiana coast is taking action to preserve their disappearing land and their way of life

Jonathan Phillips says he thinks about Louisiana’s disappearing coastline every day.As a commercial fisherman and member of the Atakapa-Ishak/Chawasha tribe, he sees water levels rising in Plaquemines Parish firsthand. He grew up in Marrero but spent a lot of time as a child in Grand Bayou Indian Village, a small community in south Plaquemines Parish that is being threatened by the effects of climate change — rising sea levels, more intense tropical storms and land loss. With the erosion of barrier islands — which protect wetlands from storm surge and saltwater intrusion — life on the bayou is getting more precarious, said Phillips, whose parents moved back to the village after raising him in Marrero.As “soon as the tide got high you see the marsh floating away,” Phillips told Verite News, referring to Hurricane Francine, which struck southeast Louisiana last month. “Next strong storm will come and take it all away.”Communities like Grand Bayou, located outside the federal levee system, are increasingly vulnerable to storms as the shoreline recedes. Over the past 60 years, the land-to-water ratio in Grand Bayou has been steadily decreasing, according to the University of New Orleans study. In 1968, there was more than twice as much land than there was water; now the village is mostly water. The church, Evening Light Tabernacle, and the houses that make up the village are only accessible by boat. It has suffered one of the highest rates of land loss on the state’s coastline, based on a 2011 study published in the Journal of Coastal Research.Phillips, who still lives in Marrero but continues to visit the village often, said the Grand Bayou is his “paradise.” Still, the village has changed since he was a child — the land used to be higher and the marsh grass didn’t grow so close to houses. As time passed and land loss made storms more devastating, many people moved away from the village, including John’s family.“It’s hard to live here and lose everything,” Phillips said. “Take a chance of losing everything every year. So, you’re kind of forced to… move away.”Now, in order to protect the community from the effects of land loss, the tribe is partnering with the Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana, an environmental nonprofit, to bring life back to the area by building reefs out of recycled oyster shells throughout the village. Over four days in September, volunteers with the coalition constructed oyster reefs to protect areas that would otherwise be impacted by erosion from high tides and storms.Rosina Philippe, a council elder and a traditional knowledge holder for the tribe who works on coastal restoration in the area, was at the second day of the reef building project. She said that growing up in the village was idyllic. “Everything that we needed was here,” she said. But with the fracturing and disappearance of the marshland, Grand Bayou has lost much of what once made life possible.For many years, members of the tribe lived independently, surviving off the land and finding sustenance through small-scale farming, fishing and bartering. In the past five to six years, they have grown more dependent on grocery stores because land erosion and saltwater intrusion have made growing crops and raising livestock more difficult. With high levels of salt in the remaining land, dead trees aren’t an uncommon sight in the bayou. Philippe attributes the lack of animal life, especially birds, to the loss of the marshlands. “We’re losing habitat,” Philippe said. “We’re losing rookeries. There are other life forms that depend on this place, and people tend to forget that.”Oyster shells recycled by New Orleans and Baton Rouge restaurants were sent to the village in mid-September. From there, volunteers loaded bags of shells onto boats and placed them along the shoreline to protect homes and navigational areas. The shells will support the growth of new oysters, which filter water and are considered a keystone species because of the thriving marine community they help create. Fish and crabs use the reefs that oysters create as nurseries. When living oysters grow on them, snails and other predators come to feed. The restoration of this marine habitat may provide commercial benefits for residents. Philippe said that these kinds of low-tech and relatively inexpensive solutions have high success rates. The Coalition to Restore Coastal Louisiana said other reefs it has built have reduced shoreline erosion by up to 50%. Some of the reef was built around Carmelita Sylve’s property. Sylvie is a lifelong resident of Grand Bayou and, like Phillips, is afraid that her home, community and way of life will be lost to the water. “(There’s) a lot of waterway, and the land is disappearing,” Sylvie said. “I’m so thankful for CRCL, that has come out here to bring these shells to put around our properties so that it can — can’t maybe stop the erosion, but at least maybe slow it down.”The coalition has been working with the tribe since 2019. Their first project together was in 2022, when the tribe and coalition attempted to protect Lemon Tree Mound, a formerly elevated area built by Indigenous people. It is a sacred site to the Atakapa-Ishak/Chawasha, a place where people once brought offerings to their ancestors. Two years after a reef was built around the mound, aquatic life such as snails, crabs and oysters has returned to it. On Sept. 20, the land of Lemon Tree Mound was returned to the tribe by St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, which had acquired it through a 1991 donation as a part of a trust. In a speech to the tribe and coalition volunteers, the Rev. Marian D. Fortner, of St. Paul’s, said she felt compelled to return to the land when she found out it was sacred to the Atakapa-Ishak/Chawasha. She said its cultural significance was “all the more reason to entrust it back, to give it back to the mother who cares for it.” In a show of thanks, the tribe gave the church a handmade blanket. Philippe said she hopes the rematriation of the site will start a trend to return the land to its Indigenous stewards while fostering solidarity between the tribe and non-Indigenous people. Philippe’s hope is tempered by worry from a looming threat just down the road from the village. Venture Global LNG is building a liquified natural gas production and export facility in Port Sulphur, which is approximately 12 miles from the village. Al Duvernay, a Metairie resident and volunteer who helped with the reef build, said that he has hunted and fished in the waters of Grand Bayou since he was a child. He said watching the destruction of the marshland in front of his eyes was “devastating” and “heartbreaking.” “I’ve watched the oil companies dredge their canals,” Duvernay said. “I mean, literally, sitting in a duck line with my dad and the dredges are going through the marsh, tearing up the marsh.”The Plaquemines LNG terminal would destroy hundreds of acres of wetlands, according to the Federal Energy Regulatory Commission’s assessment. But the agency concluded that Venture Global LNG has taken measures to mitigate wetland degradation and that impacts on the surrounding water and wetlands will not be significant. Still, environmental groups have been critical of the project, saying that the levees have design flaws that may not prevent flooding during major storms and could cause “catastrophic damage” to the surrounding areas. Verite News reached out to Venture Global LNG, but the company didn’t respond to requests for comment. Philippe called the LNG terminal a “monstrosity.” She is worried about the negative environmental effects the plant may have for generations to come. Other tribe members, like Phillips, said that oil companies and the state bypass the community and don’t listen to their concerns. He said that fighting the oil company is “fighting a losing battle.” Still, he has hope for the community’s survival. “We learn to adapt,” Phillips said. “We’re gonna survive. That’s one thing about a commercial fisherman and somebody from Grand Bayou. We will adapt. We will survive out here. This is our land.”This story was originally published by Verite News and distributed through a partnership with The Associated Press.Copyright 2024 The Associated Press. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.Photos You Should See - Sept. 2024

California enacts unprecedented restrictions on rat poisons in bid to protect wildlife

Gov. Gavin Newsom has signed a bill that expands a moratorium on all types of a blood-thinning rat poison that has unintentionally sickened other animals.

California has become the first state in the nation to restrict use of all blood-thinning rat poisons due to their unintended effect on mountain lions, birds of prey and other animals.Gov. Gavin Newsom recently signed a bill that expands an existing moratorium to all anticoagulant rodenticides, with only limited exceptions. The poisons prevent an animal’s blood from clotting and cause it to die from internal bleeding. When an unsuspecting mountain lion or owl gobbles a dead or sick rat — or another animal that ate a tainted rat — the toxic substance can be passed on.Wildlife advocates hailed the new law — set to go into effect Jan. 1 — as an important step toward protecting non-target animals. However, agricultural and pest-control groups derided the measure as a potential public health issue that sidestepped the state’s regulatory process.“I’m so proud that California is leading the way in protecting wildlife from these harmful and unnecessary poisons,” said J.P. Rose, urban wildlands policy director at the Center for Biological Diversity, which sponsored AB 2552. “I think we can all agree that unintentionally poisoning native wildlife is wrong.”A 2023 California Department of Fish and Wildlife report found that roughly 88% of raptors and 90% of pumas tested had been exposed to the poisons. Birds of prey — and American kestrels in particular — have been significantly harmed by chlorophacinone, one of two poisons targeted in the law, according to Lisa Owens Viani, director of Raptors Are the Solution, a co-sponsor of the bill.Megan J. Provost, president of Responsible Industry for a Sound Environment, a trade association for the specialty pesticide and fertilizer industry, which opposed the bill, pointed to its potential harm to humans.“Effective rodenticide products are necessary for protecting the health and safety of people, structures and businesses — including those responsible for food safety — from the diseases and property damage caused by rats and other harmful rodents,” Provost said in a statement. The new law “unfortunately removes products from the pest control toolbox that are important for managing rodent infestations, leaving fewer products for effective immediate and long-term control and for managing resistance in rodents.”She said California’s Department of Pesticide Regulation has wide latitude to evaluate pesticides for safety “so pesticide-specific legislation … that supersedes this process was unnecessary.”The law allows the poisons to be used in agricultural settings and public health emergencies.Owens Viani said legislation and other efforts were necessary because state pesticide regulators were unwilling to act on their own. “We’re ahead of the rest of the country with these regulations, but it hasn’t been because DPR has been a willing partner,” Owens Viani said. “We’ve had to force them every step of the way.”A spokesperson for the agency said it “has been actively evaluating risks” related to the rodenticides since 2014. “Evaluation has included both monitoring for impacts through a partnership with the California Department of Fish and Wildlife and initiating formal reevaluation to inform future actions to mitigate risks to wildlife,” the spokesperson said in a statement. Owens Viani said her organization has worked for about a decade on passing legislation, including two previous laws that banned other blood-thinning rat poisons. A suit her nonprofit filed against the state agency is ongoing.The early seeds of Owens Viani’s work on the issue began around 2011, when a neighbor ran over to tell her that Cooper’s hawk fledglings had drowned in his kiddie pool. At the time, she was studying raptors at the Golden Gate Raptor Observatory and had a hunch rat poison was involved. Tests confirmed it.“It kept happening in my neighborhood, like people kept finding more dead hawks,” she said. They weren’t eating the bait; they were eating rats. “I knew that if people were using poison in my eco-friendly neighborhood in Berkeley, it was probably a problem everywhere. And so that’s when I decided to found my nonprofit and try to educate more people about the problem.”The latest legislation, authored by Assemblymember Laura Friedman (D-Glendale), tightly restricts the use of chlorophacinone and warfarin, which are known as first-generation anticoagulant rodenticides. A law signed in 2020 put a moratorium on second-generation anticoagulant rodenticides. And last year the only other first-generation poison was added through a separate law. The older first-generation version is slower-acting, requiring the rat to feed on the poison several times before it dies. The second-generation version is more potent, earning the moniker “one-feeding kills.” Other states are working on similar efforts, but Owens Viani said only California has enacted a moratorium. British Columbia has placed a permanent moratorium on second-generation poisons, and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency removed those types of poison from consumer shelves, she said. The ban will remain in place until the state Department of Pesticide Regulation reevaluates the poisons and comes up with restrictions that meet certain criteria to protect wildlife.The law also creates civil penalties. Anyone who sells or uses the poisons in violation of the law is subject to a fine of up to $25,000 per day for each violation.Any money collected from violations will go to the Department of Pesticide Regulation to cover its costs in administering and enforcing the rules, and potentially other activities.The department estimated the law would create a one-time cost of $258,000 and an ongoing annual cost of $193,000 to support a position “to handle anticipated increases in follow-ups and complaints associated with investigating sales and restricted materials,” according to a government analysis of the bill.The analysis anticipates revenue loss of an unknown amount to the department, as well as to the California Department of Food and Agriculture’s Vertebrate Pest Control Research Advisory Committee.The agency said it is committed to “a timely completion of its reevaluations.” Another bill signed into law this year requires that the agency share a timeline and status of all reevaluation and mitigation by the end of the year. “The reevaluations underway include an assessment of cumulative impacts of anticoagulant rodenticides,” including first-generation varieties, the agency said in a statement, adding that it “will continue its ongoing work to address unintended wildlife exposure from first-generation and second-generation rodenticides while still retaining tools to protect public health, agriculture, critical infrastructure and the environment.”Wildlife advocates said they compromised on certain elements of the bill as it wound through the Legislature and encountered opposition.For example, a previous version of the bill allowed members of the public to sue bad actors for breaching the law. An L.A. Times editorial from earlier this year pitched this as a powerful element of the legislation, which “could help curb the use of banned rodenticides by empowering all Californians to become enforcers.”However, the California Chamber of Commerce called it “an expansive new private right of action that threatened businesses and created incentives for frivolous lawsuits,” and removed its opposition once the provision went away.Owens Viani said proponents had also hoped to create buffer zones around agricultural areas, where birds of prey forage and which are part of habitat ranges for mountain lions, coyotes and other animals. But there were other wins. Rose pointed out what he described as “exciting language … around the sentience of animals.” The law text notes that animals “are able to subjectively feel and perceive the world around them” and that the “Legislature has an interest in ensuring that human activities are conducted in a manner that minimizes pain, stress, fear and suffering for animals and reflects their intrinsic value.” Newsletter Toward a more sustainable California Get Boiling Point, our newsletter exploring climate change, energy and the environment, and become part of the conversation — and the solution. You may occasionally receive promotional content from the Los Angeles Times.

Coastal Restoration: Shifting Sand — for Better or Worse

Taking sand from one place to save another often creates more problems — but there are ways to fix that. The post Coastal Restoration: Shifting Sand — for Better or Worse appeared first on The Revelator.

Coastal beaches are dynamic systems. Wind, waves, and currents constantly move sand around, enlarging a beach here, narrowing one there. Storms make more drastic changes, sometimes washing away or depositing entire beaches. When humans build houses, roads, hotels, and other structures on or near beaches, they put themselves in conflict with this dynamic nature. Communities trying to protect such infrastructure often employ a variety of methods to hold sand in place, including hard structures such as jetties and seawalls. These don’t actually stop sand from moving, though. They just change where and how it does move, and they often enhance local erosion. Increasingly severe storms and sea-level rise caused by climate change are only making the problem worse. Officials in many towns and cities have turned to another method: beach renourishment. This involves bringing in sand from elsewhere and adding it to eroded beaches. Beach nourishment only accounts for about 5% of the more than 55 billion tons of sand mined worldwide every year — a level of removal that threatens coastal ecosystems worldwide — but experts say its benefits are questionable and its potential for harm perhaps underestimated. A Complex Issue Since the first beach renourishment in New York in 1923, projects in 470 U.S. communities have used almost 1.7 billion cubic yards of sand, according to the National Beach Nourishment Database published by the American Shore and Beach Preservation Association. The practice is also common in Europe, with a 2021 study reporting that the Netherlands uses an average of 12 million cubic meters of sand for nourishment annually (a cubic meter is roughly the size of a pickup truck bed, slightly larger than a cubic yard). Germany uses 1.9 million cubic meters annually, Spain about 10 million cubic meters, and Denmark 2.5 million, compared to about 16 million in the United States. Some experts point out that beach nourishment projects help protect coastal infrastructure and restore beaches for tourism and can replace or create wildlife habitat. The city of Galveston, Texas, for example, credits a 1985 project with a tourism revival there. Another project on the island resulted in buildup of dunes along the seawall that provided additional protection and wildlife habitat. But experts also warn that collecting and depositing sand for beach renourishment can damage complex ecosystems. Underwater sand is habitat for seagrass and marine animals such as sea stars, sea cucumbers, and conchs, and feeding grounds for rays, fish such as flounders, and sharks. Many U.S. renourishment projects use sediment collected during regular dredging of ports and ship channels. The city of Galveston, for example, reports that many of its of 19 renourishment projects, representing more than 4.6 million cubic yards, used sediment from maintenance dredging of a ship channel at the island’s east end. Since this dredging is already happening, at least this practice avoids disturbing additional sites. But dredging can significantly degrade water quality over large areas and for long periods of time, and the quality of dredged sand often differs substantially from that naturally on the beach. Changing the size and type of grains on a beach can affect the flora and fauna living in sand, and multiple studies have shown that changing sand characteristics affects nesting by sea turtles and birds. For example, a long-term study by the Sanibel-Captiva Conservation Foundation in Florida found annual sea turtle hatching success on nourished beaches fell by about 20% on average compared to non-nourished ones. Another study, conducted by the Sea Turtle Conservancy, reported significant reduction in successful nesting by sea turtles following a renourishment project in Martin County, Florida, and noted that the width and flatness of the new beach left a higher percentage of nests prone to inundation during high tides. (Three years following the renourishment, nesting had returned to normal.) Rather than bringing in sand from elsewhere, some projects use bulldozing to restructure beaches. Three months after a project in North Carolina bulldozed sand from the lower beach to build up dunes at the back beach, researchers recorded dramatically lower numbers of saltwater clams and sand and ghost crabs on the bulldozed segments. Sand crabs had failed to recover by midsummer, when they serve as the primary food for important surf fishes and some shorebirds. The study authors blame this failure on poor match in sand-grain size, high shell content in the sand, and extension of the project too far into the warm season. According to a North Carolina Coastal Federation report, monitors have documented sea turtles prevented from nesting or even killed by bulldozing, and renourishment pipelines preventing hatchlings from reaching the sea. Nests can be buried as well, adds Kerri Allen, the organization’s coastal management director, and the noise and lights from a project can deter nesting females. In addition, sand placed on a beach is eventually lost to the same forces that removed sand in the first place. That means renourishment must be constantly repeated — generally every three or four years. In an unfortunate coincidence, that’s about the time it takes natural systems on a renourished beach to recover, according to a study in the Journal of Coastal Research. Most sand used for renourishment in the United States is mined legally, so at least here the practice doesn’t contribute to the worldwide problem of illegal sand mining. But that’s not true in other parts of the world. Stephen Leatherman, a professor at Florida International University — known as  Dr. Beach and famous for his annual list of the world’s top 10 beaches — tells me armed guards once blocked him from a beach in Morrocco. Illegal miners were removing its white sand, which he says ended up on a formerly black sand beach in the Canary Islands. Making It Better The four authors of the 2022 book Vanishing Sands, all researchers and experts in geology and coastal sciences, suggest the need to rethink beachside development, which drives much renourishment. “If no buildings crowded the shoreline, there would be no need for shoreline armoring, beach nourishment, or beach scraping,” the book stated. “The threats to the beach fauna and flora or the recreational quality of the beach would not exist. And there would be no erosion problem requiring mined replenishment sand. No buildings, no erosion problem.” Extensive beachside development already exists on most of the world’s coastlines, of course, and preservation of sandy beaches is essential to protect this development and for tourism, a major contributor to coastal economies. Add in rising sea levels, and efforts to hold shorelines in place and protect infrastructure will likely intensify. To many, beach renourishment seems less harmful than hardened structures such as seawalls and bulwarks. But that may not be the case. While beach monitoring studies are routinely required for U.S. beach nourishment projects, a 2005 review published in the journal BioScience reported that, at the time, 73% of them misinterpreted at least some of their results and more than half lacked rigorous support from evidence and analysis for their conclusions, often due to poor study design. “The review was motivated by our observation that despite years of mandated monitoring of beach nourishment projects, our knowledge of the biological impacts remained poor,” says co-author Melanie J. Bishop, now at Macquarie University in Australia. “Sadly, our finding of major deficiencies in the majority of studies was what we suspected — that ecological monitoring was essentially a box ticking exercise, done to fulfill permitting obligations, but with little scientific rigor.” She and co-author Charles H. Peterson (now deceased) suggested addressing these problems by improving permitting, monitoring, and mitigation for renourishment projects. Monitoring, for example, needs to be driven by clear goals, conducted by independent research organizations, and subject to peer review. “Monitoring in and of itself does not make beach nourishment more or less harmful,” Bishop says. “Instead of requiring monitoring of each and every project as a box-ticking exercise, funds otherwise dedicated to monitoring may be better placed into a central pool used strategically to fund basic research that improves our understanding of how sandy beach ecosystems operate and respond to change.”  The paper also recommended that state and federal permitting ensure compliance with the National Environmental Policy Act, which has yet to happen. In North Carolina Allen says she’s seen improvement in the management of nourishment projects, partly due to stronger regulations at both the federal and state level, she says, and partly due to increased awareness, education, and oversight. “Coastal residents are highly educated when it comes to issues like these, and they are the first to call when they see something that is out of place,” she says. “These residents will call an advocacy group, like the Coastal Federation, and we will call the regulatory agency and local government reps to make sure that all the rules are being followed. We also review permit applications when they are sent out for public notice to ensure regulations are being followed and to remind the agencies that someone is watching.” The North Carolina organization also has recommended that permits require projects to avoid operations during certain months and that nourishment sand closely match the beach’s original grain size, color, and shell and silt content. “Conducting these projects well outside of nesting season is key,” Allen says, “as is detailed analysis looking at the composition of the placement material to make sure it is compatible. If both the size and composition don’t match what is on the beach, it can exacerbate erosion and also disrupt imprinting for sea turtle hatchlings. It’s well-documented that sea turtle hatchlings return to the beach where they hatched to lay a nest, and a fairly mainstream understanding for how that works is that hatchlings imprint on sand while making their way to the water.” Allen adds that it is important to note that, without nourishment projects, sea turtles in some places would not have a beach to nest on. “And beaches with hardened seawalls, groins, jetties, sandbags, and such are far worse for sea turtle nesting than nourished ones,” she says. “Like most coastal management issues, there is no cut and dry ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ solution.” The United Nations Environment Programme’s 2022 report “Sand and Sustainability,” which addressed the larger issues of global sand use, also recommended using sand that is as similar as possible to the original, as well as from a location that keeps the sand in the larger ecosystem. UNEP further urged using nature-based (green) engineering over built or gray engineering (seawalls, bulwarks, and the like): “Sand has key functions in nature and drives important natural processes,” the report stated. “Nature-based solutions make intentional use of these natural processes to strengthen engineering performance and preserve certain ecosystem services linked to sand. Replacing grey engineering with green engineering is the ‘no regrets’ option. It is natural and environmentally friendly, reduces the use of concrete, can be done in collaboration with local communities, requires low (if any) maintenance, has aesthetic value, stores carbon, supports biodiversity and usually is cost effective.” (Making concrete itself requires significant amounts of sand.) With climate change increasing the natural forces that continually move sand around on the world’s coasts and oceans, beach renourishment is unlikely to go away anytime soon. But at the very least, we can start doing it better. “It’s easy to assert that there shouldn’t be development on barrier islands and that managed retreat is the only responsible option long-term,” Allen says. “But the reality is, these homes and businesses and infrastructure exist in these dynamic habitats, and municipalities have a responsibility to serve their residents as best they can. We work hard to get coastal leaders and residents thinking about long-term solutions, but in the meantime, we’re all just trying to do the best we can with the information we have.” That said, Allen admits beach nourishment is probably not the best solution. “But do I wholeheartedly believe it’s the far better alternative to hardened structures? Yes. So we have to continue to weigh the pros and cons of all of these methods and continue to support and fund research that may yield an even better alternative.” Scroll down to find our “Republish” button Previously in The Revelator: Coastal Restoration: Recycled Shells and Millions of Larvae — A Recipe for Renewed Oyster Reefs The post Coastal Restoration: Shifting Sand — for Better or Worse appeared first on The Revelator.

Lifeform of the week: Axolotls, the key to eternal youth?

The axolotl is a spectacular, forever-young amphibian. It never loses its tadpole tail and can regenerate not only its limbs or tail, but also its organs! The post Lifeform of the week: Axolotls, the key to eternal youth? first appeared on EarthSky.

Have you ever heard of the axolotl? This friendly animal is fascinating, and it stays in a young form its whole life, like Peter Pan. Axolotls are amphibians that never grow beyond their tadpole shapes. Furthermore, axolotls can regenerate almost all parts of their bodies, not just their limbs. It makes them a popular subject for medical research. Where do axolotls live? There are 33 species of axolotls, which are distributed in North America from southwest Alaska and southern Canada to the highlands of Mexico. In Mexico, there are 17 species in the northeast and center of the country, 16 of which are endemic. Sadly, most wild Mexican axolotls are critically endangered. Their habitats are shallow-water lakes or canals with lots of aquatic vegetation. They are sometimes confused with salamanders. In fact, the two have a lot in common. The main difference is that salamanders are born in water as tadpoles but then undergo a metamorphosis and leave the water to inhabit land. Axolotls, however, are completely aquatic. This environment is where they feed on worms, larvae, insect eggs, mollusks, crustaceans and some small fish. Axolotls catch food by opening their mouths quickly, sucking their food in like a vacuum, and then using their small teeth to retain the food in their mouths. Axolotls are sometimes confused with salamanders. But salamanders are born in water as tadpoles and then undergo a metamorphosis to inhabit land. Axolotls, however, are completely aquatic. Image via Seánín Óg/ iNaturalist (CC BY-NC-ND). Axolotls have a unique anatomy The axolotl is a peculiar amphibian. When the egg hatches underwater, the axolotl maintains its tadpole-like dorsal fin for life. A female lays between 300 and 1,000 eggs per clutch. The eggs are transparent and take between 10 and 14 days to hatch. Axolotls are born without limbs but later develop four legs. First, they grow the two front legs. A week later, they develop the two back ones. They have four toes on their front paws and five on their back paws. Another curious fact is axolotls don’t have eyelids, which makes them sensitive to light. Therefore, they must remain in dark environments. Not surprisingly, axolotls are nocturnal animals. The average size of an axolotl is 6 inches (15 cm) in length, although there are some that measure up to 12 inches (30 cm). In addition, females are wider than males and have a shorter fin/tail. Axolotls maintain their tadpole-like dorsal fins for life. They are born without limbs but later develop 4 legs. Also, they don’t have eyelids. Image via Raphael Brasileiro/ Pexels. Various ways to breathe Axolotls have three different ways to breathe: through gills, lungs and their skin. Those “feathers” on both sides of the head are their external gills. This is the primary means by which they breathe. When water enters through the mouth, it escapes through the gills. Through this process, the axolotl brings oxygen to its blood. What we call breathing is – in the axolotl – technically known as gas exchange, something that is also done through the skin and lungs. The quality of the water they live in is extremely important. The life expectancy of axolotls in captivity ranges from 10 to 15 years, while in the wild they only live three to six years. Axolotls can breathe through gills, lungs and their skin. Image via Mattias Banguese/ Unsplash. An axolotl’s regeneration superpower Axolotls have the incredible ability to regenerate from their tails/fins to important organs such as the heart, brain, lungs or kidneys. In fact, if they lose any of their limbs, they grow back. When they regenerate an organ, it doesn’t even leave a scar! The organs look fresh and new. For this reason, axolotls are part of large scientific studies worldwide. These fascinating creatures can regenerate their tails/fins, hearts, brains, lungs and kidneys. Image via Nathan Guzman/ Unsplash. The axolotl is a colorful animal Axolotls can have a great variety of colors, although they mainly have four shades. The pink axolotl is the most famous. This one has a happy and tender face, and funny little round black eyes. The gold one is similar but with a slight golden tone. The albino axolotl is rather whitish, and its eyes are red. Albinism – or lack of skin color – is caused by a recessive gene transmitted to offspring when both parents carry the gene. And last but not least are those that camouflage themselves best among aquatic plants, the green-brown or black axolotls. These amphibians are colorful. They can be pink, golden, white or black/dark green/brown. Image via TK/ Unsplash. The axolotl is in critical danger of extinction Unfortunately, wild axolotls are critically endangered due to several factors. One is the contamination of the waters where they live, largely due to chemical pollution, plastic waste and other garbage dumped in the water. Luis Zambrano, professor of zoology at the National Autonomous University of Mexico, wrote: All our aquatic animals suffer from poor water quality, but amphibians more so because they have to breathe with their skin. Another important factor is axolotls are captured illegally and exploited for their medicinal uses (without a scientific basis), as food for humans and also sold as pets. Another factor causing the decline of the axolotl population is the introduction of invasive species for human consumption. These species feed on axolotls, becoming their predators. Currently, different environmental regulations protect axolotls. Plus, there are various research and conservation centers that work hard to change their situation. However, the reintroduction into their natural habitat is not occurring yet because the threats are still high. According to experts, the natural environment must first be properly conditioned. Axolotls are critically endangered due to pollution, illegal fishing, their use as food and for medicinal purposes, the introduction of invasive species and because they are sold as pets. Image via Guillaume de Germain/ Unsplash. Axolotls in mythology Axolotls have inhabited Mexico’s great lakes area since pre-Hispanic times, when the Aztecs lived. They are part of the culture and mythology of the Mexican people. In fact, their name comes from Nahuatl. Atl means water and xolotl means monster. Put together, it means water monster. These small animals are protagonists of Mexican mythology, since the axolotl is related to the Aztec god Xolotl, who disguised himself as this animal to avoid being sacrificed. Axolotls have been part of the culture and mythology of the Mexican people since the days of the Aztecs. Image via Guillaume de Germain/ Unsplash. Bottom line: This spectacular amphibian keeps its body forever young. It never loses its tadpole tail and can regenerate not only its limbs or fin/tail, but also its organs! The adorable leaf sheep sea slug: Lifeform of the week. Incredible sea rays: Lifeform of the weekThe post Lifeform of the week: Axolotls, the key to eternal youth? first appeared on EarthSky.

The Happiest Little House of Horrors

Welcome to the Spruce House in Finland, where macabre jokes about the end of the world are built into a comfortable island cabin.

You have been granted access, use your keyboard to continue reading.The Happiest Little House of HorrorsWelcome to the Spruce House in Finland, where macabre jokes about the end of the world are built into a comfortable island cabin.NewJan-Erik Andersson and Marjo Malin at the Spruce House in Turku, Finland. “This house is really about symbols, what art can do, and what houses should be,” Mr. Andersson said.Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesSept. 30, 2024, 5:01 a.m. ETA metal pool ladder is fixed to a wooden veranda outside Jan-Erik Andersson’s house in western Finland. But there is no pool here, and we are 1,000 feet from the sea. The steps to nowhere, says Mr. Andersson, are a provocation, “an artwork to protest about rising waters.”“We are waiting for our pool,” he adds. “It will not be long. The world is burning.”More unsettling visual jokes about imminent environmental catastrophe turn up all over his hexagonal home, known as the Spruce House. But Mr. Andersson, an artist, designer and performer, can’t help but envelop them in the beauty that he sees all around the natural world. He’s an optimist, after all.Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesVesa Laitinen for The New York TimesVesa Laitinen for The New York TimesVesa Laitinen for The New York TimesThe Spruce House, newly built on a semirural plot on the island of Hirvensalo, in Finland’s Turku archipelago, resembles a wicked-green wooden head, perhaps some kind of Nordic folk-horror goblin. Its mossy green roof is a misshapen hat, its scarlet door an abstracted bloody mouth, its narrow windows a pair of malevolent eyes.It is built to high environmental standards, and heated and cooled by geothermal energy, but these technicalities aren’t really what interest its creator. “There are many houses, many architects dealing with purely ecological problems,” he says. “This house is really about symbols, what art can do, and what houses should be. In my opinion, there should be more art interventions.”Mr. Andersson and Ms. Malin in the kitchen. The ‘philosopher’s table,’ an acrylic work by Mr. Andersson, imagines mountains, temples and knowledge systems consumed by flames.Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesMr. Andersson, modest and energetic at 70, is a well-known art figure in the Nordics. He moved into the 795-square-foot house this year with his wife, the graphic designer Marjo Malin, having built it to his own design as a postdoctoral project working with the Finnish architect Erkki Pitkäranta. Together, they conceived a visual tension between Mr. Andersson’s eco-optimism and the apocalyptic motifs in the interiors — much of which are Ms. Malin’s work.“She has less faith in humanity’s ability to work together to solve problems and I am more positive, so you get both sides,” Mr. Andersson says.The architect Erkki Pitkäranta, who designed the house with Mr. Andersson, describes his aesthetic as “strict and functional,” whereas his client’s is driven by colors and forms. “Those are very good things to put together.”Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesAfter a few months living the house, Ms. Malin says, “it feels normal, you get used to it.”“It’s also functioning very well, and it feels like home,” she adds. “I think it feels like when you are inside your mother’s womb. It feels like a safe place because it’s little and round.”Perhaps the best way to think of the Spruce House is as a manifesto you can live in. Mr. Pitkäranta describes his architectural point of view as “strict and functional,” whereas his clients come from a world of intentional colors and forms — “and those are very good things to put together.”The name refers to three spruce trees originally on site, which fell prey to parasites and had to be cut down. Those bathetic pool steps are an installation by Trudi Entwistle, the English environmental artist, who also laid out Mr. Andersson’s garden — a series of earth ramps tangled with wild grasses and meadow flowers, suggesting the house’s inhabitants are stranded in a wasted landscape that’s been returned to nature.The staircase is both “the stairway to heaven and the road to hell,” Mr. Andersson says.Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesMs. Malin designed many of the interior moitifs.Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesDownstairs, there’s a bathroom and an open kitchen/living room anchored by the “philosopher’s table,” a circular acrylic work by Mr. Andersson. Its surface design imagines mountains, ancient temples and knowledge systems consumed by flames. A second, rotating table features violent, swirling digital galaxies flocked with spruce branches. To complete the metaphor, 10 black “burnt” Philippe Starck chairs are positioned neatly around the table.“The doom scenarios have been part of art for centuries, but we are still here,” Mr. Andersson says. “Talk and communication is the only way, and we have 10 chairs around the table for that. And a big monitor beside the table for bringing those discussions online.”Ms. Malin’s designs for the interior include a kitchen backsplash of red Perspex in the shape of cartoonish scarlet flames, reminiscent of the “This is fine” internet meme. “The fire, lots of black and orange, was my idea,” she says. “Then Jan-Erik and I decided together how to use them.”Clusters of lampshades are junk-shop bargains of the mid-20th century, mass-produced variety, a way to find use for old plastics. For fixtures, Ms. Malin improvised with secondhand finds: “I used old egg cups for door handles,” she said.Ms. Malin’s designs in the kitchen include a backsplash of red Perspex in the shape of scarlet flames. “I used old egg cups for door handles,” she says. Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesThe staircase, with steps that change from red to orange to yellow to white as one ascends, is “the stairway to heaven and the road to hell,” says Mr. Andersson. “You get hotter as you go down, you come up onto a cloud — symbolically, of course.”Upstairs, there’s a compact bedroom, a shower room and two micro-offices, one each for the couple. Ms. Malin’s desk and shelves are immaculate. “She’s a very minimalist person,” her husband says. His space is only slightly messier and has a balcony overlooking the garden: “It’s a beer-drinking place, only for me and my beer bottle. There’s no room for anyone else.”The house is hexagonal, he says, because “there are no squares in nature.” He borrowed the motif from the rock formations at the Giant’s Causeway in County Antrim, Northern Ireland. “Natural forms are good for our psyche. With squares it wouldn’t have the same feeling at all.” Most of the windows are arrow-shaped, with five corners.Not all motifs and artworks are didactic — some are purely decorative, like the five facade sculptures by the Finnish artists Heini Aho and Kimmo Schroderus, among others. They were, Mr. Andersson says, blind commissions; he simply invited artists he admires to make him something, then fastened the results to the exterior in an arrangement that pleased him. “There should be more ornaments,” he says.“We are waiting for our pool,” Mr. Andersson says. “It will not be long. The world is burning.”Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesEvery window in the house has five corners. “There are no squares in nature.”Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesThe Spruce House may be a Finnish curiosity, but it comes from a global tradition of homes known as “Gesamtkunstwerk” — a German term meaning “total artwork,” indicating highly individualistic collisions of architecture and art. Their creators use and live with their work.The Spruce House is Mr. Andersson’s second attempt at such a project. His first was Life on a Leaf, a custard-yellow villa with a wooden facade and crowned with an indigo-glass skylight in the shape of an enormous, upside-down bluebell — “only for philosophizing and drinking in,” he says. The house was a celebration of nature, also designed by Mr. Andersson and Mr. Pitkäranta and completed in 2009 for his doctoral project at the Academy of Fine Arts in Helsinki. In his 2020 book “Total Design,” professor George H. Marcus of the University of Pennsylvania included Life on a Leaf alongside masterpieces by Le Corbusier, Mies van der Rohe and Finland’s Alvar Aalto.Life on a Leaf, which sits on the plot next to the Spruce House, was initially funded through philanthropic donations, and as part of a special arrangement it was Mr. Andersson’s home for a while. Now it belongs to a nonprofit organization set up to secure its future, and hosts artists in residence. By contrast, Mr. Andersson paid for the Spruce House himself, with support from the city of Turku, which owns the land, and some funding from the Kone Foundation, an arts sponsor in Finland. The total cost was €250,000 (about $275,000), excluding the external sculptures.Mr. Andersson commissioned other Finnish artists to create the facade sculptures.Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesMr. Andersson fastened them to the exterior in an arrangement that pleased him.Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesTurku’s planning officials insisted the new house complement Life on a Leaf, effectively prohibiting Mr. Andersson from building anything bland or conventional. “Both buildings are works of art in themselves and contain separate visible artworks to delight people,” says Timo Hintsanen, director of development for the City of Turku. “From a cultural significance perspective, it is important that the complex is as open as possible.”One final structure sits on the site: The sunshine-yellow sauna, shaped like an enormous garlic clove, or perhaps a Russian Orthodox Church dome, with bugle-shaped metal pipes where a stalk should be. This is the Sounding Dome, a fiberglass steamhouse created with the American sound artist Shawn Decker as a public commission in 2011. Today, the sauna is out of order and awaiting repair, but the sound installation still works. Inside are rows of chairs mounted on platforms — secondhand finds with the legs removed.Mr. Andersson closes the door. Through the silence comes a discordant drone, like the low whine of an animal, then a shrill whistle and a gurgle. When the heat rises, the sound becomes louder and more intense — a way to heighten the senses beyond the powers of a standard sauna. “The sound travels around your head,” he says.The sunshine-yellow sauna, shaped like an enormous garlic clove, is the “sounding dome,” a fiberglass steamhouse created with the American sound artist Shawn Decker.Credit...Vesa Laitinen for The New York TimesHow often does he use it? “I am not a big sauna person,” he says. “It takes away your efficiency. I’m a workaholic.”He hopes the Spruce House design may one day be replicated at scale, perhaps as some kind of experimental housing estate. On the way out, we pass two low stools with knobbly, concrete seats on the veranda. Mr. Andersson says he made the stools for philosophizing on.“They are uncomfortable on purpose,” he says, “because we cannot be sure of anything.”

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