It was nationwide news at the time. Neither the plant nor the U.S. Department of Agriculture inspectors looked very good.
The Humane Society of the United States did. That was the outfit whose undercover operative took the videos which showed the calves kicked, electro-shocked and in two cases apparently “skinned alive while they were still conscious,” according to Michael Markarian, the society’s chief operating officer, as quoted by no less than the Los Angeles Times.
But the high regard for the HSUS was not universal, and still isn’t. Many Vermont farmers – primarily in the large, commodity dairy sector – remain convinced that the society is not what it claims to be. Some of these farmers remain bitter about the HSUS and its glowing reputation.
While they are hardly conducting a high-profile campaign against the society, they do discuss their opposition to it among themselves, and occasionally express their concern to state lawmakers in the Capitol’s corridors, write angry letters about the organization or email links to articles attacking HSUS.
One article sent to legislators – from “Pork magazine” – asserted that “layer by layer, the facade of the Humane Society of the United States is being peeled back revealing the group’s far-reaching objectives. The world is learning that at the center is an animal-rights group with much more on its agenda than saving dogs and cats.”
The Humane Society openly acknowledges that there is more on its agenda than saving dogs and cats. It also wants to save whales, horses and chimpanzees. But some farmers and their lobbyists argue that HSUS has a covert agenda, that its real goal is to promote vegetarianism and even, as one farm advocate put it, “to end U.S. animal industries.”
That’s a strong accusation, and considering that HSUS is the largest and richest animal advocacy organization in the world, with some 11 million members and assets of more than $205 million at the end of last year, it deserves some attention.
So, briefly and bluntly: Is there any credible evidence that HSUS’s real goal is to transform America into a nation of 300 million plus vegans who use no leather and raise no cattle, hogs, sheep or chickens?
No.
Which is not to say that the organization is beyond criticism, or that some farmers don’t have legitimate reasons for disliking it. HSUS is an advocacy organization, which is another way of saying that it is a political organization. It’s also a prodigious fundraiser, and like most advocacy groups, its fundraising tactics do not always scrupulously adhere to the facts. Right after football star Michael Vick was indicted for running a dog fighting operation, HSUS’s Web site asked for funds that would be used to “help the Humane Society…care for the dogs seized” from Vick. But HSUS did not have the dogs.
It is also reasonable to wonder whether HSUS played the Bushway incident for maximum political impact (which arguably is what advocacy groups should do). It edited the video tape and timed its release. Had the tape been released earlier, presumably some of the abuse would have been prevented.
That consideration prompted Vermont state Rep. Carolyn Partridge, the Windham Democrat who chairs the House Agriculture Committee, to say that “in the future, if cruelty or inhumane treatment is witnessed by anyone in any of our facilities, that it be reported immediately to the Vermont Agency of Agriculture.”
Partridge, who said she does hear anti-HSUS sentiments from farmers, insisted that the state had to make sure livestock was treated humanely. “That’s part of the Vermont brand of quality,” she said. “We do not want that reputation blemished.”
But there is no evidence that HSUS lobbies or campaigns against meat-eating or animal husbandry. Besides, in the real world, covert lobbying and campaigning are all but impossible. An advocate for a cause has to advocate for that cause – openly – or the cause will not benefit. If a lobbyist whispers anti-meat propaganda to a congressional staffer, that whisper will be leaked to a reporter within minutes.
Nor is there any evidence that HSUS gets much money from anti-meat groups or individuals. In fact, HSUS has so much money that it would seem impossible for the vegetarian world – with neither people nor funds to spare – could provide a big enough share of the society’s finances to be noticeable.
One problem with assessing the charges against HSUS is that almost all of them stem from an unreliable source. The organization claiming that HSUS is a front group is … a front group.
According to the Center for Media and Democracy’s “Source Watch,” the Center for Consumer Freedom is “a front group for the restaurant, alcohol, tobacco and other industries. It runs media campaigns which oppose the efforts of scientists, doctors, health advocates, animal advocates, environmentalists and groups like Mothers Against Drunk Driving.”
The Center for Media and Democracy is a left-of-center organization, not given (as the above quote demonstrates) to understatement. In this case, though, it’s right. The Center for Consumer Freedom, whose “humane watch” blogs attack HSUS, was founded in 1995 with a $600,000 grant from Philip Morris (now Altria) the tobacco giant. It is funded by alcohol, tobacco and restaurant interests and run by Rick Berman, who also owns a public relations firm in Washington.
Besides, even the “humane watch” blogs merely assert that HSUS is secretly pushing vegetarianism. They do not come close to proving the assertion. Asked for anything resembling conclusive (or even persuasive) evidence, the Center for Consumer Freedom did not reply.
Not everything in “Humane watch” is incorrect. It regularly assails HSUS for spending only a tiny fraction of its budget on local pet shelters around the country, even those that use the “Humane Society” name.
That’s true, but perhaps irrelevant. HSUS has no official connection with local shelters, said Anna West of the society’s public information office.
“There’s no consolidated network,” she said. “The shelters are all independent.” HSUS “does grant a tremendous amount of financial support to shelters across the country,” she said (including more than $9,000 to three Vermont shelters in 2009). But it is not responsible for the local shelters, she said, and rumors that it demands money from those local shelters are false.
HSUS does oppose the fur trade. And its president and CEO, Wayne Pacelle, is a vegan. But there’s nothing covert about his eating habits, and they are not shared by all his staff.
Not, for instance, by Joe Maxwell, a self-described barbecue-lover who is the society’s director of rural development and outreach. His job, he said, is to help farmers and other food producers use “best practices” in dealing with livestock.
“I’m from a family farm in Missouri,” Maxwell said. “I often spend weekends home on my family farm. I’m not working to put my family out of business.”
But HSUS does seem opposed to what it (and others) call “industrial agriculture,” meaning the large-scale agribusiness that mass-produces most of the food most Americans eat. Such opposition is not explicitly stated on the society’s web site, but Pacelle has often assailed what he once called the “glaring animal welfare problems in today’s industrial agribusiness sector,” and many HSUS policies, if enacted, would significantly alter – if not abolish – conventional commodity farming.
So it’s not surprising that conventional commodity farmers see the society as a foe, and not too surprising that they lump it together with their other foes, assuming that any opponent must be in league with their most extreme opponents. Agribusiness would hardly be the only special interest to make that mistake.
On the other hand, the anger at HSUS from Vermont dairy farmers may be unnecessary. The only position the society takes regarding cattle-raising is opposition to cropping the tails of cows, a practice rare if non-existent in Vermont.
Even as devoted a supporter of non-industrial, more “sustainable” farming as Cheryl Cesario of the Northeast Organic Farming Association of Vermont said she could see why farmers might be unhappy about HSUS and its tactics.
“A farmer might think, well, what if they came to my farm where they could take short video out of context,” said Cesario, who also operates a livestock farm in Cornwall with her husband.
At Bushway, where one executive pled guilty to aggravated animal cruelty, there’s little doubt that the context was accurate enough. But there’s also little surprise that commodity farmers and food processors are wary of HSUS, even if their conspiracy theories about the society are overblown.
