“You think I care about how an animal was raised? We eat meat and eggs in our house!” That’s the statement someone recently made about why they wouldn’t pay an extra $0.05 for farm-fresh eggs. At first glance, it’s easy to dismiss it as just another example of entitlement. But dig a little deeper, and it becomes clear that this mindset reveals something far more troubling: the complete lack of concern for how our food is produced, as long as we get it when we want it. Didn’t we learn anything from Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle?
For those who missed that high school literature lesson, The Jungle exposed the horrific conditions of industrial meatpacking plants in the early 1900s. It’s a stark reminder of what happens when profit trumps ethics, when consumers stop asking questions, and when food production becomes completely detached from humanity. And while things have certainly improved since Sinclair’s time, the core issue remains the same: when people stop caring about how their food is raised, the consequences ripple far and wide—for the animals, the environment, and the people doing the work.
Let’s talk about the animals first. Saying “I don’t care how an animal was raised” dismisses the suffering that comes with industrial shortcuts. Many commercial operations prioritize efficiency over welfare, confining animals to cramped spaces, forcing unnatural laying or growing cycles, and treating them as commodities rather than living beings. By contrast, small farms like ours focus on raising animals with care, allowing them to follow their natural rhythms and providing environments that promote health and well-being. That extra $0.05 supports practices that value life—not just production.
And then there’s the environmental toll. Cheap food often comes at the expense of the planet. Industrial farms generate mountains of waste, rely on unsustainable practices, and burn through resources at an alarming rate. Small farms, on the other hand, adopt methods that work with the environment, not against it—composting manure, rotating pastures, and minimizing waste. Choosing to care about how food is raised means supporting a system that looks beyond immediate profits to consider the long-term health of the planet.
Finally, there’s the human side of it all. When consumers stop caring about food production, the people behind the scenes—the farmers, the workers, the communities—are the ones who pay the price. Small farms work tirelessly to uphold ethical practices, often at great personal cost, while industrial operations cut corners to maximize output. Respecting how food is raised isn’t just about the animals or the land; it’s about valuing the people who dedicate their lives to feeding others.
So, let’s flip the script. Instead of dismissing the importance of how food is raised, let’s ask ourselves: What kind of food system do we want to support? One that prioritizes ethics, sustainability, and humanity—or one that sacrifices everything for speed and cost? That extra $0.05 may seem insignificant, but it represents a choice—a choice to care about what goes on behind the scenes, to value quality over convenience, and to respect the journey from farm to plate.
What do you think? Have you ever considered how your food is raised or how your choices impact the bigger picture? Let’s talk about it—because caring matters, for all of us.
