Decapitation occurs when the animals are hung upside down. Hanging upside down allows them to bleed out quicker, meaning that it is more commercially beneficial for subsequent processing of the meat. Cows and pigs, animals of great weight, are lifted from the floor by their rear legs, causing them tears and breaks. After that, they are slaughtered by the killers, their trembling bodies can be extended endless minutes.
Chickens and hens are hung upside down on conveyor belts. They are mechanically slaughtered by machines. In poultry slaughterhouses, almost everything is automated. They can kill more than 50, animals in just one week. To avoid contributing to the daily horror millions of poor animals inside slaughterhouses face, you can replace meat, dairy, and eggs in your diet. Millions of compassionate people around the world are already doing it. At LoveVeg. These days, the top meatpacking companies do not just produce meat, they also control how the animals are raised long before slaughter: in the chicken industry, companies oversee the process from chick genetics through supermarket packaging; in the beef industry, cattle come under the control of the big meatpackers four to six months before slaughter.
The ownership of all parts of the supply chain is called vertical integration. It gives integrators — the companies who have integrated all the different parts under one umbrella — control over price and quality; and the economies of scale they have achieved have helped to drive down the consumer prices of meat.
Vertical integration has also allowed the meat industry to become highly consolidated, controlled by just a few companies: As of , the four largest companies in each sector controlled 85 percent of the beef packing industry, 66 percent of pork packing, and 51 percent of broiler chicken processing.
The history of the meatpacking industry closely traces the history of corporate power and consolidation in the US. In the same period, antitrust laws aimed the stranglehold of big business in all sectors broke up most powerful players of the meat cartel. Transition to a production line, where workers performed the same task repeatedly, meant unskilled workers could be hired at lower wages.
Consolidation began to rise again, such that today meatpacking is one of the most concentrated sectors of the economy; with consolidation, conditions at plants have worsened severely. Some beef and pork slaughter plants are still unionized, and, according to United Food and Commercial Workers , union meatpackers make 15 percent higher wages than non-union. The costs of working in slaughterhouses are not offset by the low pay; and worse, many workers sacrifice their bodies on the production line.
With line speeds twice as fast as forty years ago, the stress of repetitive cutting motions can lead to serious injury. A Southern Poverty Law Center report found that nearly 75 percent of poultry workers described having some type of significant work-related injury or illness.
Injuries from the cutting equipment, from falls on slippery floors and from exposure to chemicals and pathogens are common. Musculoskeletal disorders — injuries to the nerves, tendons and muscles — are especially prevalent.
For example, the incidence of carpal tunnel syndrome in poultry processing is seven times higher than the national average. On a chicken processing line, a worker can repeat the same motion as many as 20, times in a day, which can lead to permanent damage in the hands, arms, shoulders or back.
In some slaughterhouses, workers are not allowed regular bathroom breaks, which can lead to severe health consequences, as well. Many workers in slaughterhouses are immigrants and have been threatened with deportation or firing if they speak up about unsafe working conditions, are injured on the job, seek medical treatment outside the company or complain about work-related health issues.
In , USDA issued recalls of contaminated meat products, covering Some have chainmail aprons and gloves. I hear a chainsaw and a man goes past with half a sheep on his shoulder. Phil is explaining the process. He talks about the mandatory on-duty vet checking the slaughter process, the Food Standards Agency officers checking the meat. I notice the animal is never slaughtered, but dispatched. They are not gutted, but eviscerated.
The two slaughtermen stand above the pigs in a small stall — strong men, able to keep the pigs back with their legs. The first animal is held in the tongs, around the size of large garden secateurs; it barely struggles and goes down immediately, although the current stays on for longer, to make sure.
The second pig looks perplexed for a moment but not panicked, then its moment comes and it is down. They are winched up immediately. One, two, three, four, less than 15 seconds then its throat is cut. They say it happens quickly and it does.
But you know what? It is not the killing that is the most violent thing. It is what happens next: it is the skinning, the burning, the boiling … the evisceration. Phil is explaining it in his language. It is lowered into the water. We say scald — not boil — a pig. The wrinkled haunch is like elephant hide.
The hair is burned off with a naked flame. I keep my head down, trying to write notes, but my mind has gone blank. I feel confused, out of my depth. I have to leave the room. He looks at the walls, at the men, anywhere but into my eyes.
If you stop rearing animals where the hell are they all going to go? That is when I will stop. We walk back to the office.
I believe he may be right. I peel off my hairnet and overalls and faintly regret wearing my new shirt. Audrey is still there but no one offers me a cup of tea or even a glass of water.
Phil sits down at his desk and begins eating his lunch. He has white rolls filled with ham, of course. I ask about his family and he softens at last. It is clear Phil is proud of his job. He hands me his card. Do you want to eat American beef — and not know where it is coming from? Who am I to judge someone doing a proper job? I feel spoilt, stupid, judgmental. This abattoir may not be the most slick, up-to-date operation but it has a good reputation. It employs local people and, most importantly, while other small abattoirs shut down, it ensures that smallholders can continue to keep animals for meat — the same smallholders we all want to see thriving and providing our sustainable food.
I ask him about the effect on the workers. It is just an object. Phil tells me about a year-old boy who has just moved here from a dead-end job on the car wash.
I get back in the car and wait for tears, but nothing comes. I need to speak to someone who knows me well and phone my sister. As usual she is looking after the children and a little distracted, so I rush through my description of what has just happened. I tell her I feel shocked, dirty, like I did something wrong.
She tries to comfort me like a child. You must intellectualise it, distance yourself. Should I not be feeding the kids meat?
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