A Coup for a Coop: The Injustices of the Chicken Industry

by Cristina Flores

Early last week, I had made a statement in class addressing my personal beliefs towards eating meat and poultry:

“I eat meat as an act of defiance against elitist vegetarians and vegans. Coming from a low socioeconomic background, to be told that I shouldn’t eat meat was to not take into consideration my own access to food.”

To me, being vegetarian/vegan was the equivalent of white privilege, the rise of the Whole Foods and New Seasons supermarkets that were overriding the preexisting run down homes once present. Since the explosion of migration in Portland and the gentrification that came along with it, vegetarianism and veganism were the representation of the elite’s beliefs that looked down on my own family for not succumbing to them. Despite feeling justified enough to make such a harsh statement, I didn’t feel quite right about it. In an odd attempt to find some peace within myself, I went on an r/AskReddit thread that questioned omnivores as to why they weren’t vegan. Many of the replies were similar to mine--some Redditors truly believed that their consumption of animals was the equivalent of giving a middle finger to a “Give Peas A Chance” shirt wearer on the street.

...and yet, Todd ate gelato anyways. (from Scott Pilgrim vs. The World)

And then came Thursday.

When Dr. Emmerman came on the scene, I was expecting my focus to be on the inhumane conditions of animals in slaughterhouses, the cruel techniques used to make sure that their meat remained as consumable as possible, and the reading highlighting the problematic language surrounding women and animals. And while the class discussion did approach each of those topics, none of them struck out to me more than when Dr. Emmerman mentioned the demographics of the workers in the slaughterhouses.

People of color. Undocumented immigrants. Low-income workers. Workers hailing from marginalized communities.

And here I sat, like a complete idiot, once believing that I was championing for the underdog--a minority fending off the snobbery of animal rights activists who identified me as “uncivilized”. My work on campus as a member of PLU’s Residence Hall Association had been focused on promoting concepts of social justice so far--but what kind of social justice advocate was I if I perpetuated the very same structures that took advantage of the same communities I was advocating for?

It was like a record scratch in my head.

This is not to say that I had been previously unaware of the cheap labor that went behind the slaughterhouses owned by large corporations--that information is public knowledge. What created the metaphorical slap in the face was in taking the time to reflect on the willful ignorance I had demonstrated over the years, shopping for cheap chicken without thinking too hard about why it cost so little.

The following day, the class watched Okja, a movie about a fourteen-year-old girl and her superpig, genetically engineered to feed an ever-growing population. It was difficult to not watch the film without tearing up at least once--but not for the reasons that you would expect. While the class’ tears might have revolved around the heartbreaking conditions of the other superpigs sent in for slaughter, mine were fueled in anger through the juxtaposition of the white, greedy and corrupt CEO Nancy Mirando among the predominantly Hispanic workforce shown in the slaughterhouse. Even when Mija, Okja’s owner, runs through the facility looking for her superpig, the workers don’t confront her, but warn her in Spanish that the facility was not a place for children. From the worker sweeping up the gallons of blood on the floor, to the knocker prepared to take out the next superpig, my own blood boiled at the sight of Nancy sweeping in with her entourage, with little regard to Okja, Mija, or the workers, all in the name of profit and capitalism.

And speaking of profit and capitalism, here’s where the chicken industry comes in:

In this segment, John Oliver addresses the issues of labor behind chicken slaughterhouses, where farmers are subjected to unreasonable quotas from chicken corporations, in addition to being paid very little. If the farmers even dare to speak up against their treatment, the corporations turn against them and set them up for failure. At these farms, the farmers provide the equipment, while the corporations bring in the chicken they need the farmers to raise. Top ranking farms, scored on production, quality, and other factors, get the best pick of chicken, while lower ranking farms get the runt of the litter. The farms who can produce the greatest amount of profit obtain a slight increase towards their pay, while farms that produce a lower quantity of profit get their pay docked on top of making much less money. Many of these farmers either live at or below the poverty line, so to get cuts in pay would be catastrophic. In the clip, a National Chicken Council spokesperson was asked about why farmer’s wages were at poverty line level, to which he deflected the question and asked the interviewer “what poverty line [they] were referring to, a national poverty line or a state poverty line”. Farmer suicide rates are already the highest in the nation, with 84.5 per 100,000 people, making these conditions not only unbearable, but inhumane on behalf of the corporations imposing such demands. As a way to curb corporate control over farmers’ voices, Rep. Marcy Kaptur attempted to pass an amendment to protect farmers’ stances on their workplace conditions. This was shut down by Congressman Steve Womack, who has consistently fought regulations in favor of farmers. To add insult to injury, another National Chicken Council representative called into question the concerns of chicken farmers, asking why they would be involved in a business that they believed wasn’t good enough in the first place.

I genuinely wish I knew.

         

In addition to corporate greed stifling poor farmers’ voices, cheap, unquestioning labor is exploited at the expense of the lives of undocumented workers. In a report by the Human Rights Watch, three quarters of the plant labor population were comprised of Latin Americans, with Southeast Asians and Marshallese making up the majority of the leftover population. When interviewing workers at Case Farms, a chicken farm, journalist Michael Grabell found that many workers were forced to go for long hours without bathroom breaks, one had his leg ripped off in the process of fixing machinery, and all were paid a measly $2.25 per one thousand chickens. For Case Farms, the factory initially took advantage of the local Amish community for cheap labor, which dwindled with the increase of industrialization in the workforce. Guatemalan refugees fleeing their civil war were targeted in the 1980’s as a new source of labor, which Case Farms was eager to snatch. On top of the U.S. providing Guatemalan dictators with the weapons that had destroyed these peoples’ livelihoods, U.S. employers took advantage of the refugees’ inability to go back home, and cut back on safety procedures and expenses that continue on to this day.

All said, to continue to justify meat and poultry eating behavior as a stand against elitism is not just wrong, it’s a contradictory statement that demonstrates the same elitism on the part of the consumer over the laborers exploited every day in slaughterhouses.

“But why does it matter?” one might ask. “Exploited workers are also available in the agricultural field, so we can’t really break out of the destructive capitalist viewpoint on either side, can we? And even if we did, lots of undocumented immigrants and low income workers would lose their jobs, so why bother?”

Once again, I’ll try my very best to come up with a potential solution that might favor the greatest amount of people (thanks, utilitarianism).

1. Advocate. If you are truly indignant about the conditions of workers subjected to the harsh conditions of the corporations under them, advocate for legislation to be passed that can effectively protect workers’ rights. An extensive list created by the Human Rights Watch not only lists the atrocities committed by corporations stripping workers of their humanity, but it also gives information about several groups that have fought for laborers’ rights.

2. Doing something is better than doing nothing. If advocacy isn’t up your alley, then I’d recommend gradually turning away from the cabbages found in large supermarket stores, and steering towards local farmer’s market produce. Locally obtained meat and poultry might still be subject to the brutalities of slaughterhouses though, so if you’re also feeling sympathetic towards the chicken killed to make your nugget, you might want to avoid consuming those animal-based food as much as possible. Like in the last blog, be aware of who is producing your food. If you can find the time, investigate up on some of the farms you’re buying your groceries from.

3. Be patient with yourself. This is advice I had obtained from Dr. Emmerman herself. Even if we commit to fighting for laborers’ rights and avoid the consumption of corporate-produced foods, there will be times when we stumble and get sucked back in to the cycle of capitalism. If we’re broke and feel despondent over our inability to effectively fight back? That’s okay. If we told ourselves we would avoid consuming meat but gave in for a moment to a cheeseburger? That’s okay too. Capitalist structures have existed well before we were born, and will continue to exist well after we die. We cannot, however, simply rely on future generations to make the world a better place for us all. Humanity has to start somewhere for innovation to begin, so we might as well start now.

In an ideal world, all workers, regardless of immigration status, economic standing, or racial difference, would be subject to fair laws that would lessen the already-trauma inducing conditions of a slaughterhouse. Increased conscientiousness among the American population should be aimed for, with the added affordability for fair labor produce for all. Until then, if you can…

...give those local peas a chance.

(1652 words)