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For nearly a decade, Lauren served as the animal control manager for a county in North Georgia. It was a round-the-clock, always-on kind of job, in which she and her employees responded to animal cruelty and neglect cases, dog attacks, and animal escapes.

Saving animals was, and still is, Lauren’s passion in life. But some weeks, the cruelty and the stress of the job got to be too much. It came to a head in early 2024 when she showed up to a man’s house and found 27 hound dogs outside exposed to the freezing cold. 

“It was one of the coldest nights, unseasonably, for the state of Georgia,” Lauren told me, and “these dogs are out there with no shelter.” The man was breeding the hounds to be used as hunting dogs, and her department had already told him to get them shelter, but he hadn’t complied. That left Lauren and her colleagues with two choices: let the dogs freeze to death or bring them into the county animal shelter, where they’d remain indefinitely during a cruelty investigation and court proceedings. They took the dogs.

But the shelter was already full, so she and her colleagues had to make a tough call; they euthanized dozens of animals there that day in order to make space for the 27 hounds.

“The shelter worker’s the one that’s got to stand over that body and decide, ‘Is today that animal’s day?’” Lauren said.

“And, I’m sorry, but some of that never leaves you; you carry it the rest of your life,” she said. (Lauren is a pseudonym. She requested anonymity to speak openly on sensitive issues because she’s still involved in Georgia’s animal welfare community.)

Just days later, she responded to a situation in which two dogs had attacked people and were then shot by the police — one dog died, while the other was rushed to a veterinarian’s office. Around this time, the county shelter was also dealing with a severe disease outbreak, and one of her employees got injured while trying to catch a loose animal. 

“How am I supposed to mentally and emotionally deal with all of that at one time?” she told me. Lauren quit a few months later, she said, because the compassion fatigue — the deep emotional and physical exhaustion that can result from intense caregiving — had become too much to handle.

This wasn’t Lauren’s first bout of compassion fatigue. She had worked at an animal shelter in the 1990s where, two to three times a week, she’d have to go into a room and euthanize dogs for hours at a time. 

Animal control and shelter workers, who often work hand-in-hand and share many of the same burdens, “get the trauma heaped on them daily that lasts most people a lifetime, and nobody inside or outside talks about it — it’s the dirty secret of [animal] sheltering,” Lauren told me.

Across the US, animal control officers and shelter staff are overworked and underpaid. Turnover is incredibly high, as many of them become burnt out from bearing the immense emotional and physical burden of the job. Collectively, these workers euthanize an average of over 1,600 dogs and cats each day, while responding to countless cruelty and neglect cases; rounding up millions of strays; routinely putting themselves in harm’s way; and dealing with indifferent, difficult, and even hostile pet owners. 

They are the frontline workers of America’s long-running and ever-evolving pet overpopulation crisis, currently fueled by a decline in spay and neuter rates, the rising costs of veterinary care, and a chronic lack of government funding. 

Then, there are the American consumers, many of whom prefer to buy dogs and cats from breeders, even as millions of animals in need of a good home languish in shelters, where they will be euthanized if they’re not quickly adopted. Last year in the US, almost 6 million pets went to animal shelters. Ten percent were euthanized.

“We live in a throwaway society, be it the animals or their TV,” Lauren told me. “People throw stuff away all the time, and somebody’s got to be there to clean it up.”

“You will not forget the dog’s name”

Animal sheltering, for all its challenges, has come a long way. To see how, just read this New York Times story from 1877, which describes how the city pound euthanized stray dogs by loading dozens at a time into an iron crate and lowering it into the East River for 10 minutes to drown them. 

At the time, large numbers of stray and semi-domestic animals roamed city streets and were generally considered a nuisance for barking, fighting, defecating, rooting through garbage, and biting people. But, in time, the pet overpopulation problem morphed from one of too many stray animals to too many pets. 

By the 1940s, the role of cats and dogs had largely shifted from “working” animals to companions, and advances in veterinary medicine, the growth of the suburbs, and the emergence of large-scale dog breeding operations led to the nation’s pet population doubling in the decade after World War II. But with a boom in the nation’s pet population inevitably came a boom in unwanted pets.

According to one estimate, animal shelters euthanized 13.5 million of these unwanted cats and dogs in 1973. That number had plummeted to 596,000 by 2025, even as the US pet population swelled. Researchers attribute much of this sea change in euthanasia rates to the rise of spay/neuter programs. In the 1970s, shelters and animal welfare groups worked with veterinarians to offer high-volume, low-cost spay/neuter clinics, and since the late 1990s, more than 30 US states have passed laws that require shelter pets to be spayed or neutered before adoption. The growth of animal rescue organizations that facilitate pet adoption has undoubtedly played a big role in reducing euthanasia numbers, too. 

This represents enormous progress. But as the situation has improved for animals, so, too, has our understanding of how gut-wrenching this field’s work can be for the humans who do it.

In the late 1980s, researchers began to interview animal shelter employees about the toll that euthanasia and other parts of the job takes on their well-being. In the decades since, we’ve come to learn that performing euthanasia predicts poorer mental and physical health, including higher levels of work stress; lower levels of job satisfaction; and higher rates of anxiety, depression, and substance abuse than the general public.  

Some of the stress these employees feel is the result of what sociologist Arnold Arluke calls the “killing-caring” paradox, in which they routinely have to kill animals they’ve spent days, weeks, or months caring for and getting to know. 

“You will not forget the dog’s name, you will not forget the animal’s face,” Caitlan Frazier, director of Aransas County Animal Care Services in Texas, told me. She recounted to me the guilt she felt for having to euthanize a litter of newborn kittens, because there was nobody to provide the round-the-clock care they needed (she certainly couldn’t with two kids and nine animals of her own at home).

She told me a story about a dog named Bougie whose bites put her in the hospital for four days. Despite what he put her through, Frazier said, “I still feel guilty with that dog, because I feel like, if I would have given him more time [for training], maybe he wouldn’t have been put down.” 

But many shelter workers also expressed anger toward the people whose actions drive the pet and shelter overpopulation crisis: owners who acquire a pet when they’re not ready for the responsibility or who fail to spay/neuter or vaccinate their animals when it’s available, as well as those who casually breed dogs and cats and then dump the ones they can’t sell onto shelters.

“It’s draining, heartbreaking, and maddening, especially when the animal is young and healthy and you’re euthanizing for space,” Bailey Smith, who works at the Humane Society of Young County in North Texas, told me over email. “I still cry sometimes.” (I should note that every shelter worker I spoke with also considers euthanasia the greatest gift they can give to animals who are severely injured or diseased or are too aggressive to be adopted.)

Other problems also increase animal control and shelter workers’ stress: bearing frequent witness to animal cruelty and neglect, physical injuries inflicted by the very animals they’re caring for, and the always-on-call nature of the job. 

Keane Menefee understands the strains of the job well. He joined the animal control department in Fort Worth, Texas, in 1997 and worked there until 2010, when he quit due to compassion fatigue. The euthanasia work took its toll, but so did the long hours and the horrors he saw in the field, including a girl who had been mauled to death by a dog. He told me stories of night terrors and attempted suicide.  

The job puts “wear and tear on you on every level of your being,” Menefee told me. He now teaches courses for animal control officers, including one on compassion fatigue. 

Another challenge of the job is dealing with members of the public who get angry at animal shelters and their employees about essential parts of their work, including euthanasia.

In 2008, The Oprah Winfrey Show aired an episode about puppy mills, and Menefee went on to talk about the high euthanasia rate at his shelter — a rate that was so substantial, in part, because of puppy mills churning out a large volume of dogs. 

“I wasn’t ready for what was to happen,” Menefee told me. Within hours, he received over 3,000 emails, and virtually all of them were hateful. Some included death threats, with people going so far as to tell them they knew his home address and the school his children attended. 

“I understand the sensitivity” to euthanasia, Menefee told me. “But this is not the animal control’s fault, this is not the shelter worker’s fault.” Many people, he said, just don’t understand how these industries and laws work to create the conditions that make euthanizing perfectly adoptable animals a necessary part of the job. 

What animal shelter workers want you to know 

When I asked people in the animal control and shelter community what’s most needed to bring down pet overpopulation and make their work sustainable, the answer, invariably, came down to money.

Animal control departments are run by city or county governments, and the vast majority of animal shelters are either government-run or -funded. And they work together to manage their region’s pet overpopulation challenges. One thing they all have in common is that they’re all operating on shoestring budgets (as are the privately run shelters, operated by nonprofits), so there’s never enough staff or space to meet the needs of the animals in their communities. But, ultimately, many of the people I spoke with say a lot of the money should go directly to providing pet owners with low-cost spay and neuter, which has been in shorter supply in recent years. 

“Spay/neuter — it’s not sexy, it’s expensive, it’s constant, but it truly is the number one way to curb our [pet] overpopulation crisis,” Shelby Bobosky, who formerly served as executive director of the Texas Humane Legislation Network and now teaches animal law at Southern Methodist University, told me. “Overpopulation is a simple math problem.” 

Bobosky also wants to see policymakers crack down on puppy mills, strengthen animal cruelty laws, mandate spay/neuter procedures, and restrict the sale of animals at pet stores. 

Smith, of the Humane Society of Young County in North Texas, told me more pet-friendly housing and low-cost veterinary care are also critical. About one out of five animals surrendered to shelters are given up because their owner could no longer afford them or couldn’t find accommodating housing.

But Smith also wants to see more responsible, thoughtful pet ownership. “People need to think before bringing a pet home,” Smith told me. “Are they ready for the commitment?” 

The costs can add up quickly: food, spay/neuter, vaccination, training, insurance, and veterinary care — not to mention time giving their animals plenty of daily exercise and attention. While a lot of pets are given up due to affordability issues, a lot are given up for less black-and-white reasons, like their owner simply had too many animals, or they didn’t want to deal with a (non-aggressive) behavioral issue. 

Beyond more responsible acquisition and caretaking, the public can help by fostering animals at home and volunteering to walk shelter dogs. 

“An animal starts mentally deteriorating in a shelter within three weeks of being there,” Frazier said. “If you don’t have that extra enrichment or those volunteers or people coming and doing things with these animals…those animals mentally deteriorate so fast that they can’t even be adopted anymore.”

As for the well-being of the animal control and shelter staff, many told me that just talking about the challenges of the job helps. “I’ve had compassion fatigue three times in the last eight years,” Frazier told me. And if it weren’t for talking with her peers and co-workers, she said, “I don’t know if I’d still be in this job.”

Of the numerous training courses Menefee offers, his one on euthanasia and compassion fatigue gets the most repeat attendees. In the course, he’s direct and open about the mental health struggles he’s endured while working in animal welfare because “it’s not said enough in this industry.” He wants people to know they’re not alone, that they’re not weak, that they can handle the job, but also that there are warning signs to watch out for and things people can do to protect themselves.

But as hard as the job is, many people I spoke with also told me how much meaning it gives their life and about the powerful bonds they have formed with others in the trenches. 

“One of the things I love about this industry is just how close-knit the people who work in it are,” Menefee said. “When these individuals get together, they see that we’re all facing the same challenges and they start telling their stories and they…get some comfort in knowing ‘I’m not alone and I’m not the only one.’”

Our relationship with dogs, cats, and other animals kept as pets is often portrayed as joyful and uncomplicated: They love us unconditionally, and, in return, we promise to provide the best care we can for them. There’s some truth to that, but spend just a moment looking under the surface of this story, and you’ll find a darker side to it: millions of people making millions of choices, many of which put unlucky animals through hell and put the people tasked with caring for them into impossible situations. 

We need a more honest and nuanced story to explain our relationship with pets, and we can start by listening to the ones America’s animal shelter workers have to tell. 

In 2019, Erin Wing worked for nearly three months at a salmon hatchery in Maine that’s owned and operated by Cooke Aquaculture, the world’s largest privately held seafood company. As a hatchery technician, she helped to raise millions of delicate salmon eggs into salmon juveniles. From there, they were transported to Cooke’s fish farms off the coast of Maine, where they were fattened up to be slaughtered and sold under the brand name True North Seafood at grocery stores across the Northeastern US.

But Wing had a secret: She was there undercover, wearing a hidden camera on behalf of the animal protection nonprofit Animal Outlook. During her time at Cooke’s hatchery, she documented:

• Workers culling diseased fish by repeatedly striking them against the sides of tanks and stomping on their heads
• Live fish left in buckets to suffocate or be crushed to death by other fish
• Fish overcrowded into tanks, some of them born with spinal deformities or dying from painful fungal diseases that ate at their faces

Shortly after Animal Outlook released a video of the investigation, Cooke Aquaculture CEO Glenn Cooke apologized. 

“As a family company, we place animal welfare high in our operating standards and endeavor to raise our animals with optimal care and consideration of best practice,” he wrote in a statement. “I am very sorry that this has happened.”

Maine’s department of agriculture investigated the hatchery but didn’t file any charges because Cooke had committed to retraining its employees and updating its facility management plan, among other measures. 

But it appears that its promised reforms didn’t stick. In 2025, Animal Outlook sent a second investigator into the same hatchery and recently released a second exposé, this time finding similar behavior and welfare issues. 

To Animal Outlook, it didn’t come as a surprise. 

“I would’ve been more surprised had we seen the conditions improved demonstrably for these animals,” Ben Williamson, executive director of Animal Outlook, told me. “We know that fundamentally crowding this many animals in these kinds of tanks is going to lead to welfare problems. Treating these animals as commodities is going to lead to cruelty.”

That cynicism is the product of hard-won experience. Animal protection groups have conducted nearly 200 investigations into US farms raising chickens, pigs, cows, turkeys, and fish, gathering a staggering amount of evidence on standard, yet inhumane, practices and living conditions and often documenting malicious cruelty along the way. 

In some instances, investigations have led to companies making substantive changes, such as phasing out small cages for pigs and chickens. But like with Cooke Aquaculture, most farms and companies promise to make reforms after they’ve been exposed, only for follow-up investigations to reveal continued abuse and miserable living conditions. This pattern highlights the limitations of such investigations, which have proven essential to building our understanding of conditions on factory farms but insufficient to significantly improve them. 

Though, they reveal that, for much of the livestock industry, cruelty is the norm. What that means is that, in the absence of government oversight and federal animal welfare laws for farms, there’s little reason for consumers to take meat companies at their word when they promise to do better. 

What happened when an investigator returned to Cooke’s fish hatchery 7 years later

Animal Outlook’s second investigator worked at Cooke’s Maine hatchery in late 2025 (the investigator isn’t named due to the covert nature of their work). Like Wing, the second investigator documented numerous severe welfare issues, including workers:

• Culling fish by repeatedly beating them with metal rods on more than a dozen occasions, despite the availability of stunning equipment on-site (hitting fish like this is a common method to stun them, but it should be done in such a way that rapidly renders them unconscious)
• Leaving some bludgeoned fish to thrash on the ground out of water for as long as 90 seconds to suffocate, and two instances of employees dropping live fish into buckets to suffocate 
• Shooting and bleeding out fish that were not fully anesthetized, causing “some of the worst suffering documented at the facility,” according to the organization

In one scene, a worker is shown cutting into a fish while the fish’s heart is still beating.

All told, Animal Outlook documented 133 instances of what appeared to be improper killing, throwing, and rough handling, along with fungal and bacterial infections (which indicate poor water quality), deformities, overcrowding, and other animal welfare problems. 

“It looks to me like they have a systemic welfare issue at this farm,” Culum Brown, a professor and prominent researcher on fish welfare at Macquarie University in Australia, told Vox over email. 

There were also multiple unexplained mass fish mortalities of hundreds or even tens of thousands of fish dying.

Cooke Aquaculture did not respond to an interview request for this story and declined to respond to detailed questions about the investigation. “Cooke USA takes animal welfare very seriously,” a spokesperson wrote in a statement to Vox in which the company acknowledged the hidden camera investigation and said it’s reviewing the footage. “Appropriate disciplinary measures will be taken with respect to employees who have not followed company policy.”

The company is certified by Best Aquaculture Practices, a program that promises “safe, responsible and ethical farm-raised seafood.” Best Aquaculture Practices declined an interview request for this story and said an investigation into Cooke Aquaculture is currently underway.

The advocacy group Aquatic Life Institute rates Best Aquaculture Practices as having the lowest animal welfare standards among nine aquaculture certification programs it reviews because of how it compares to other certifiers on key issues, such as overcrowding, environmental enrichment, transport, and stunning and slaughtering. Best Aquaculture Practices, which is among the largest of the nine, said in an emailed statement to Vox that it is “actively engaged with ALI [Aquatic Life Institute] and has integrated several of their recommendations.” 

The Maine Department of Agriculture, Conservation and Forestry confirmed to Vox that it is conducting an animal welfare investigation in response to Animal Outlook’s investigation.

Animal Outlook also documented problems that went beyond animal welfare at the hatchery. 

When farmed salmon escape into rivers and streams, they compete with wild salmon for resources. They also mate with them, contributing to what researchers call “genetic pollution,” which has created a hybrid breed of salmon that can have lower survivability rates. 

In the investigation video, a worker said that the company had failed to follow one of its escape prevention protocols of putting a screen on the waste discharge pipes, from which fish can escape, that release into the Kennebec River. “They have screens that are supposed to be down,” a worker said, “but there’s so much shit in there that… we pretty much just keep them up all the time.”

This alarmed Neville Crabbe of the conservation nonprofit Atlantic Salmon Federation, because the Kennebec River is home to endangered Atlantic salmon and the site of a $300 million project to restore their populations.

“The escape of farmed fish…is a significant contributor to population collapse and loss,” for wild Atlantic salmon, Crabbe told me, and “Cooke is basically intentionally allowing” their release. 

Some employees also suggested that a general culture of callousness pervades the company. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the company is in it for the fish health side, they just want fish production,” a manager told the Animal Outlook investigator. “Kinda why our vet[erinarian] left too.” Speaking about the veterinarian, one employee said “they just disregard her shit all the time.”

In one part of the investigation, a manager who Animal Outlook alleges worked at the hatchery in 2019 when Wing investigated it and was still employed there in 2025 said of Wing: “I hunted her down and I found her on Instagram… I was gonna send like a horse tongue or something to her mail… I was gonna send like a deer tongue or something, or like some brains. Cause she’s like an animal activist… Bitch.”

I asked Wing what she felt when she heard this recording. She expressed concern for her family’s safety and also that she believes this shows how those at the company are “not sorry that they did what they did — they’re sorry that they got caught.” But she also expressed empathy for the employees who have little control over how the company operates. 

Why we can’t take animal agriculture companies at their word

The juxtaposition between the CEO of Cooke Aquaculture’s heartfelt apology in 2019 and the grisly findings of Animal Outlook’s follow-up investigation is unsettling, but it isn’t unique. It’s a pattern that animal protection groups have witnessed for decades: They investigate farms that supply meat, milk, and egg companies and find that some employees maliciously abuse animals. The farm or company apologizes and promises to change, sometimes firing a handful of workers. Then, the advocacy organization investigates another of the company’s supplier farms, only to find the same problems. 

This includes many of the largest animal protein companies, such as Foster Farms (six investigations), Butterball (four investigations), Cal-Maine (two investigations), Smithfield Foods (around nine investigations), Tyson Foods (10 investigations), and Fairlife (around five investigations, though Fairlife has denied sourcing from some of the investigated farms).

The companies’ initial responses often give the illusion that justice has been served — that the bad employees will be punished and the bad farm will be improved. The responses lead many consumers and regulators to believe that these are cases of rogue actors rather than a fundamentally cruel system.

But that system is cruel, as its many relapses and false pieties reveal. And while instances of malicious abuse are hard to stomach, standard practices and conditions on farms — including intensive breeding, overcrowding, and pervasive disease — cause even more suffering than the occasional beatings caught on camera.

The companies that make up this system have an unbelievably immense responsibility: the welfare of billions upon billions of animals. And yet, they are accountable to no one. Undercover investigations make this reality plain to see. Maine officials didn’t hold Cooke accountable after the first investigation. Lawmakers didn’t pass new animal welfare standards. Regulators didn’t commit to meaningful oversight. 

Meat, dairy, and egg companies reveal who they are when they think no one’s watching, and we should listen. Everything else — the statements, the apologies, the promises to reform — is just noise. 

Of all the hot-button social issues in America, there’s one that often flies under the radar but can unleash a torrent of strong feelings — swirling with apparent contradictions — when it surfaces: meat. 

Case in point: Last month, the popstar Billie Eilish argued that you can’t say you love animals and eat them. Her comments made sense, though they set off a heated, weeks-long debate among X and Instagram users, who responded with a flood of strange justifications for eating meat, despite the terrible treatment of farmed animals. 

The spat vividly illustrated a psychological phenomenon called the “meat paradox”: the cognitive dissonance and deep discomfort people feel when their behavior of eating meat and other animal products clashes with their fondness for animals.

This paradox has proved an exceedingly difficult hurdle to overcome in encouraging people to change how they eat — and even for having productive conversations about meat without things quickly getting heated (as they did for Eilish). But some research also suggests there are ways out of the meat paradox, which could help relieve the psychological strain for people, as well as the suffering of animals in factory farms. 

How we really feel about eating animals: It’s complicated

Two recent polls reveal just how confusing American attitudes about animal products are.    

The first of those polls asked close to 1,000 US adults for their views on several near-universal practices in animal farming, including stunning pigs unconscious in Co2 gas chambers before slaughter, grinding up newborn male chicks, separating calves on dairy farms from their mothers, and searing off the ends of hens’ beaks without pain relief. 

The vast majority of respondents to this survey, which was conducted by the animal welfare research group Faunalytics, consider these practices “somewhat unacceptable” or “very unacceptable.” 

A separate poll of more than 12,000 US adults, conducted by the Pew Research Center, asked respondents about whether they find a range of behaviors immoral. Those issues covered adultery, gambling, having an abortion, and eating meat. More than almost any other issue in the survey, respondents considered eating meat “not a moral issue.” It ranked as close to the most “morally acceptable” behavior offered, on par with using IVF.

These numbers seem to show just how deep in the meat paradox we are. And that doesn’t surprise Hank Rothgerber one bit. He’s a professor at Bellarmine University who studies the psychology of meat consumption. Rothgerber and other psychologists have conducted dozens of studies that have uncovered the cognitive dissonance people feel when confronted with the fact that their behavior — like eating meat — clashes with their beliefs, such as that animals shouldn’t be harmed.

One possible explanation for this disconnect, he told me, is simple ignorance.  

Most people, it seems, truly don’t know that the cruel practices asked about in these surveys are quite standard on US factory farms — and that nearly all animal products come from factory farms. And so, when people are asked if eating meat is morally wrong, “what’s being done to the animals is not coming to their mind,” Rothgerber said. 

But chalking it up to mere ignorance suggests that “if you just inform people, enlighten them, then everything will be okay, right?” he said. Not quite. “I think the deeper issue with it is that the ignorance is motivated — basically, willful ignorance. People don’t want to know.” 

Rothgerber and other psychology researchers consider willful ignorance, or avoidance, a strategy some people deploy to resolve their feelings of cognitive dissonance.

In a 2017 study, one-third of respondents chose to look at a blank screen instead of a picture showing pregnant pigs housed in tiny crates (a pervasive practice in factory farming), with some participants explaining their choice as wanting to avoid feelings of guilt. In another study, some people said that learning about pig farming could contradict their views on animal welfare or force them to change their meat consumption.

There are several other strategies people use to alleviate the discomfort of living with the meat paradox. One is lowering the moral status of animals. In a clever 2010 study, participants were randomly given either cashews or beef jerky to snack on while filling out a short questionnaire about what they thought of the snacks. Then, the researchers asked a number of follow-up questions, including how much moral consideration cows deserve.

Participants who had been randomly assigned to eat the beef jerky, “viewed the cow as significantly less deserving of moral concern” and with a lower capacity to suffer than did participants who ate the cashews, the researchers reported. This experiment suggested that rather than people’s thoughts and values driving their actions, it might often be reversed.

Researchers have also found that some people work to dissociate meat from its animal origins, or actively try not to think of animals when eating meat. Others try to neutralize their discomfort via ideas that either avoid the problem of animal suffering or absolve them of their complicity, for example, asserting that eating meat is their right, that they only eat free-range meat, or that they hardly eat any meat at all.

The meat paradox puts animal advocates in an extremely difficult position. No one seems to like the cruelty involved in meat, milk, and egg production, yet they like what it produces: cheap animal products. A lot of people feel guilty about what it takes to produce those items, but respond with defensiveness, evasion, or arguments that don’t stand up to scrutiny when asked to consider not consuming them.

This has led some academics to consider the problem of factory farming and animal welfare a “wicked problem,” what’s been defined as “a complex, multifaceted issue that lacks a single, definitive solution due to the interconnectedness of its components.” Other such wicked problems include climate change, economic inequality, and global health. And many, many tactics to reduce global meat consumption have failed to move the needle. But a few, backed by new research and results, could work.

How to escape the meat paradox

One way to address the meat paradox is to accept its durability and try to work around it by changing conditions on farms, rather than trying to persuade people to eat less meat. 

For example, a lot of anti-factory farming activists work to make meat and eggs less cruel by lobbying for corporations and governments to ban the very worst farming practices. This has proven quite effective. For example, almost half of the US egg supply now comes from cage-free farms as a result of a number of state laws and corporate animal welfare policies.

Such bans don’t result in humane conditions, but they’re certainly an improvement. And the fact that most people support these measures when they can vote on them shows how we’re much more open to changes in animal welfare when we’re acting as voters instead of consumers.

This approach has its limits, though, because there are dozens of cruel practices to potentially ban in meat, milk, and egg production, and the companies that make up these industries lobby aggressively against such measures, making them difficult to change.  

But outside of avoiding the meat paradox altogether, there are two promising approaches to helping people change their behaviors and are far less likely to cause them to put up defenses. The first involves changing people’s food environments, such as making plant-based meals the default main dish at university and hospital cafeterias (as opposed to merely an option off to the side), making plant-based milk the default milk at coffee shops (so you have to request cow’s milk if you want it), or working to make plant-based meat and milk products taste better and cost less. 

Some research suggests that gently confronting people about animal welfare as they decide what to eat can also be effective. For example, a 2022 study conducted at a Dutch zoo’s cafeteria found that posting the question “Do you consider animal welfare to be important?” above a veggie burger menu item doubled its sales.

In a new study conducted at a university cafeteria in the UK, researchers put a photo of an animal next to a menu item that used their meat — pigs, chickens, fish, and cows — and the odds of diners instead choosing a vegetarian meal increased. 

“Linking meat to its animal source can produce measurable behavioral changes,” the researchers wrote. In other words, this short circuits the meat paradox by making it all but impossible to dissociate meat from animals. Small nudges like this may seem to produce small results. The group that was exposed to menus with pictures of animals ate 3.2 percent less meat. A modest effect, but scaled up by cafeteria directors and restaurant owners across the globe, that one change alone could prevent billions of animals from being factory-farmed for meat. 

The second approach involves deeply engaging with people on the issue. Three interventions that have proven effective in getting people to reduce their meat consumption, at least in the short term, include watching a segment from the animal rights documentary Dominion, wearing a VR headset that puts people inside a pig factory farm, and taking a course on the ethics of eating meat. But such involved interventions would be difficult to roll out on a mass scale. 

Many animal advocates have also written about how to better approach these charged issues so as to have more productive and healthy conversations. One of them is Björn Ólafsson, who recently wrote about the Billie Eilish dustup and included a counterintuitive recommendation: When all else fails, change what you’re asking of people. For example, instead of trying to persuade someone to eat less meat who really doesn’t want to, that person could help instead by making a donation to the very underfunded anti-factory farming movement. 

It’ll take a lot more clever interventions and tactics like these — and people willing to implement them — as well as more robust government and corporate policies to make factory farming a thing of the past. But, along the way, more of us might find our way out of the uncomfortable meat paradox — for good.