Imagine a perfect food system. What would you find there? Only good food! Such food tastes good; it is, more broadly, aesthetically valuable. But it also plays cultural and symbolic roles, featuring in people's identities, sense of place, and traditions. Such a system also needs to preclude scarcity, cruelty, and injustice. A perfect food system is just. The central thesis of Josh Milburn's new book is that such a system need not be a vegan food system, even though it would be “rights-respecting” (i.e., would prohibit and prevent the violations of rights of both humans and other animals). Milburn's provocative claim, at least to readers familiar with animal ethics, is that non-vegan, animal-rights-respecting food production methods should not only be allowed by the zoopolis – the polity that recognizes the political rights of other animals – but also institutionally supported.
Milburn situates himself in the wake of Sue Donaldson and Will Kymlicka's influential work but sees a major shortcoming in their zoopolis (as in much of the animal rights literature): it does not make much room for farm animals outside of a few sanctuaries imagined as “intentional communities.” In his zoopolis, you could have your cow and eat her too. Milburn is imagining a world in which we phase out most of the current animal agricultural system yet coexist with many domesticated animals – cows, pigs, sheep, goats, chickens, and so on. It is a place where sentient animals cannot be raised, harmed, exploited, and killed to produce food that we do not need, yet where we can, in good conscience, consume meat, fish, eggs, dairy, honey, and many other animal products. Milburn's argument rests on a few important, and potentially controversial, assumptions, made explicit throughout. He is a political liberal, setting limits on what the state can enforce; he is arguing about justice, not “mere morality,” that is, about rights that the state may and must protect; and he is doing ideal theory rather than simply trying to repair an unjust world.
After an enticing introduction, Chapter 1 motivates the case for an animal rights-respecting food system that is not entirely vegan (or plant-based). He highlights principled (as opposed to pragmatic) problems with veganism. The problems fall into two categories. Regarding liberalism, our conceptions of the good life are varied and sometimes incompatible, and many of them involve animal foods. Moreover, veganism may create or worsen food injustices to farmers, industry workers, or disadvantaged consumers. As for animal rights, Milburn argues that arable (i.e., non-animal) agriculture can also be harmful to animals; and that a fully vegan system may lend itself to objectionable extinctionist conclusions, thereby depriving us of the valuable presence of many animals. The rest of the book is dedicated to studying in detail the various possibilities of rights-respecting non-vegan industries.
Chapter 2 tackles invertebrate farming (bugs and bivalves), drawing on fine distinctions between “probably sentient” and “probably not sentient” animals, the former deserving to be treated as if they are definitely sentient, the latter as if they are not. (Sentient animals have rights to life and not to be exploited, among others.) Milburn also recognizes a category of “plausibly sentient” animals, who have one right – not to have suffering inflicted upon them. Where does this leave us? Decapod crustaceans (crabs, lobsters, shrimps/prawns) are off-limits (probably sentient). Bivalves (oysters, mussels, etc.) and jellyfish are in (probably not sentient). Others may be included with caution (e.g., insects) (plausibly sentient). This already leaves us with several plentiful, affordable, and comparatively sustainable sources of (rights-respecting) animal protein.
Chapter 3 examines plant-based meats that realistically mimic the taste, texture, and shape of real meat. Think Impossible or Beyond patties and nuggets, not tofu, tempeh, or seitan. Milburn spends considerable time addressing objections to the effect that the zoopolis should not allow, or at least not promote, plant-based meats (instead, say, of a mostly whole-foods, plant-based system). To me, not all objections deserve the care Milburn expends on them, but his conscientiousness is praiseworthy. Some such objections pertain to what we owe animals: e.g., that (realistic) plant-based sausages and burgers are disrespectful to animals, send mixed messages about the permissibility of eating meat and its place in society, or represent animals as resources. Others say something about consumers themselves: it is bad food because it is meat, it is processed, it is unnatural, and so on. Milburn rebuts these challenges to conclude that the zoopolis would allow such products, even if they are not the healthiest or most sustainable. Such is liberal society that it cannot impose on citizens a comprehensive vision of good food.
Chapter 4 makes a negative case for cellular agriculture technologies like cultivated meat (lab-grown from animal cells) and precision fermentation (genetically modified non-animal cells to produce, e.g., milk). The zoopolis would not disallow them. This chapter, like the previous one, addresses many objections – e.g., that cultivated meat contains animal ingredients; it rests on historical injustice (since, at least for now, cultivation involves harmful biopsies); and it reifies a hierarchy between humans and other animals by making them, but not us, sources of meat. This includes a provocative (and to me unnecessary) defence of … human cannibalism. Challenges to precision fermentation are that milk is not food (mammalian milk is not adult food; cow's milk is for calves); the production method involves genetic engineering; and it does not require live animals, which means no more multispecies utopia. Milburn overcomes these challenges gracefully.
Chapter 5 offers a positive vision for how cultivated meat could be ethically produced by reconceiving animals as workers who willingly provide cells. The industry, still nascent and fledgling, would respect animals and uphold the values associated with the production and consumption of meat, and would do so by having “donor animals” (whose cells are used for cultivating meat) live on farms as workers with labor rights (safety, healthcare, time off, retirement, etc.). While these are speculative chapters, relying on emerging technologies with modest scaling prospects, they are the most hopeful. They paint a world in which we could have our cow (in our backyard or, better for Milburn, on the farm) and eat her (or rather flesh descended from cells) without wronging her.
Someone who does not think ideal theorizing has much bearing on combating injustice may feel impatient. Much of Milburn's vision turns on scaling what is still a niche and unaffordable source of animal protein while the food system remains deeply unjust. So one could be forgiven for not sharing his optimism concerning the economic prospects of cellular agriculture, even in the face of growing demand for meat and fledgling plant-based meat sales. Later chapters partly address this concern.
Chapter 6 brings us back to earth. Milburn argues small farms could collect eggs from well-treated chickens, though likely not at current cheap prices. This is not just about backyard chickens, but commercial farms where egg-laying hens are treated as workers (unlike their backyard counterparts who are more like companions) producing real (not cultivated) eggs. This may be the most compelling illustration of Milburn's positive vision of a non-vegan, rights-respecting zoopolis, where we get to live with animals while respectfully eating their products. Unlike the previously foreshadowed industries, this vision does not hang on expensive technologies or conflict with entrenched psychological resistance. A truly respectful farm would be nothing like current industrial or even organic production though, where hens are exclusively expendable commodities. Yet you could still have your omelet.
Finally, Chapter 7 explores the implications of Milburn's account of an animal-rights-respecting food system for states and individuals, and in particular policymakers and activists. Because they are in the business of supplying an account of a food system, Milburn's arguments have been rightly focused on institutions – in the tradition of theories of justice and political liberalism, eschewing the more common focus on individual attitudes and consumer behavior. This chapter also gratifies the non-ideal theory reader with some interesting reflections on eating within the current food system. Milburn never shies away from uncertainty – the zoopolis sketched in these pages is anything but a definitive statement – and this chapter makes it especially clear.
Milburn brings welcome nuance to the discussion of animals’ political rights and stands out from an overwhelmingly anthropocentric literature on “food justice.” Few books in the field can provoke and engage readers from a wide range of persuasions like this one. Lucidly written, richly informed, impeccably structured, and conscientiously argued, it should be read by anyone interested in animal ethics, animal political theory, and food studies. A short review cannot do justice to the book's level of detail – Milburn's evocative descriptions of many cuisines and traditional dishes worldwide – or the crisp and precise yet witty and lively style. Utilitas readers will not find much discussion of consequentialism to chew on, but Milburn makes his commitments clear from the outset – this is a book about justice and rights, in the liberal tradition. Yet I also find that Milburn sees, like John Stuart Mill, justice and making the world better as deeply connected.
