Lesser Beasts

Lesser Beasts Plot Summary

Introduction

Ten thousand years ago, as the last ice age retreated and humans began to settle into permanent villages, an unlikely partnership was forming at the edges of these early settlements. Wild boars, drawn by the easy meals found in human garbage heaps, gradually lost their fear of people. The boldest among them ventured closer, finding that proximity to humans offered advantages - protection from predators and a reliable food source. This relationship, begun in the forests of what is now Turkey and the Middle East, would evolve into one of humanity's most complex and contradictory animal partnerships. The story of pigs in human history reveals far more than just the development of a food source. It illuminates how religious taboos develop and function in societies, how animals served as agents of colonization and conquest, and how modern industrial systems have fundamentally transformed both the animals we eat and our relationship with them. Through examining this history, we gain insight into the evolution of human societies themselves - from hunter-gatherers to agricultural settlements, from medieval villages to modern industrial nations. This historical journey offers valuable perspective for anyone interested in food systems, cultural history, or the complex ethical questions surrounding our relationship with the animals that feed us.

Chapter 1: Early Domestication: The Self-Taming Omnivore (10,000 BCE)

Unlike most domesticated animals, pigs essentially domesticated themselves. Archaeological evidence from sites like Hallan Çemi in Turkey shows that wild boars were drawn to early human settlements around 11,000 years ago, scavenging in garbage heaps that accumulated as humans began living in permanent villages. The pigs that thrived in this new ecological niche were those with shorter "flight distances" - animals less fearful of human proximity. This self-selection process created a population of semi-tame animals that gradually developed the physical characteristics we associate with domestic pigs. The archaeological record at Cayönü Tepesi and other early farming sites reveals this transformation happening over approximately 2,000 years. The earliest pig bones found at these locations show all the characteristics of wild boars - large skulls, long snouts, and substantial tusks. Over time, the bones change dramatically, showing shorter snouts, smaller brains, and more crowded teeth - all hallmarks of domestication. These changes weren't deliberately bred by humans but emerged as side effects of selecting for docility, as juvenile traits often come packaged with the more childlike temperament that made pigs manageable. What made pigs particularly valuable to early farmers was their remarkable biological efficiency. A single sow could produce two litters annually, with each litter containing 8-12 piglets. These animals could convert almost any organic matter - from kitchen scraps to forest nuts - into valuable protein. Their omnivorous diet, similar to humans' own, meant they didn't compete with people for grain but instead consumed foods humans couldn't or wouldn't eat. In early settlements, pigs served as living garbage disposals, cleaning up waste while converting it into meat. This early partnership established patterns that would define the human-pig relationship for millennia. Unlike grazing animals that required pasture, pigs could thrive in forests or even urban environments. Their intelligence and adaptability made them ideal companions for human expansion across the globe. However, these same qualities - their omnivorous diet and scavenging habits - would later make them objects of both adoration and disgust in human cultures worldwide. The pig's ability to eat virtually anything, including human waste and carrion, made it simultaneously valuable and suspect, setting the stage for the complex cultural attitudes that would develop around this paradoxical animal.

Chapter 2: Sacred and Profane: Religious Attitudes Toward Pigs (1000 BCE-500 CE)

By the first millennium BCE, dramatically different attitudes toward pigs had emerged across the ancient world. In Egypt and Mesopotamia, archaeological evidence shows pig bones becoming scarce in elite areas of cities after 2000 BCE, though they remained common in poorer neighborhoods. This wasn't because pigs couldn't survive in the region - they thrived wherever water was available - but because they didn't fit into the new political and agricultural systems developing in these early states. The centralized economies of Egypt and Mesopotamia focused on animals that could be easily moved and controlled. Cattle, sheep, and goats could be herded long distances through arid landscapes, making them ideal for tax collection and redistribution by the state. Pigs, with their need for shade and water, couldn't make such journeys. Records from Puzrish-Dagan, an administrative center for Mesopotamia's Third Dynasty of Ur, document thousands of cattle, sheep, and goats moving through the system - but no pigs. Instead, pigs became associated with society's margins, remaining important for common people who valued their ability to convert household waste into meat outside the state's control. The habits of urban pigs, however, created problems that influenced religious attitudes. In cities without sanitation systems, pigs scavenged human waste and carrion, including human corpses when available. This diet made them useful - they cleaned the streets - but also increasingly reviled. "The pig is impure," declared a Babylonian text, because it "makes the streets stink... and besmirches the houses." Religious authorities throughout the region agreed: pigs were unclean and unfit for sacrifice. This context helps explain the formal prohibition on pork that emerged in Jewish law around the eighth century BCE, reflecting attitudes already common among elites throughout the region. What began as a matter of ritual purity later became central to Jewish identity, especially after the arrival of pork-eating Greeks and Romans. When Antiochus IV invaded Jerusalem in 167 BCE and tried to force Jews to eat pork, resistance became a matter of cultural survival. The Books of the Maccabees tell of Jews who chose death rather than consume pork, establishing abstention from pork as a defining feature of Jewishness. While Romans embraced the pig as a symbol of abundance and fertility, Jews defined themselves in opposition to this practice - they were what they didn't eat. These divergent attitudes toward pigs and pork would have profound consequences as these religious traditions spread globally. Judaism's prohibition on pork would later be adopted by Islam, creating a vast swath of the world where pig-raising was marginalized or absent. Christianity, emerging from Jewish roots but embracing Roman practices, generally accepted pork consumption while maintaining some ambivalence about the animal itself. These religious attitudes shaped not just diet but entire agricultural systems and landscapes, determining where pigs would thrive and where they would be absent - patterns that persist in many regions to this day.

Chapter 3: Medieval Forests to Renaissance Tables: European Transformations

When the Roman Empire collapsed in the fifth century CE, Europe's pig population underwent a dramatic transformation. The large white sty pigs bred for Roman banquets disappeared along with the wealth and trade networks that had supported them. What survived was the rangy black forest pig, perfectly adapted to the conditions of early medieval Europe with its vast expanses of woodland and limited human population. These semi-wild pigs became central to the medieval economy, as evidenced by the Salian Frankish legal code, which devoted more laws to pigs than to any other animal. Throughout the Middle Ages, forests were valued largely for their capacity to support pigs. Anglo-Saxon laws protected both pigs and their forest grazing lands, with severe penalties for destroying acorn-producing trees. Forests were sometimes measured not by acreage but by the number of pigs they could support - designations such as "wood for 100 swine" appear in England's Domesday Book of 1086. Each autumn, herders would drive their pigs into the woods for "pannage" - the right to fatten pigs on fallen acorns, beechnuts, and other forest mast. This seasonal movement of pigs between villages and forests created a distinctive rhythm to medieval life and shaped the landscape itself. Medieval Europeans, like the Romans before them, delighted in pork. Archaeological evidence from castles and monasteries shows that nobles and monks consumed large quantities of pork, while peasants ate mostly older cattle and sheep culled at the end of their productive lives. The wild boar became a prized quarry in the hunt, valued for its ferocity and considered the ultimate test of a nobleman's courage. Medieval cooks created elaborate dishes using every part of the pig, from head to tail, developing preservation techniques like smoking and salt-curing that would define European cuisine for centuries. By the late Middle Ages, however, Europe's growing population put pressure on the forests. Trees were felled to make way for crops, and pigs lost their habitat. As they became urban scavengers, their reputation suffered. Though Christians ate pork, many retained anxieties about animals that ate carrion and human remains. Irish priests created elaborate rules: pigs that had tasted human flesh were "always forbidden," while those that had eaten other carrion could be consumed only after the tainted food had been "ejected from its intestines." The Black Death of 1347-1351, which killed about a third of Europe's population, temporarily improved the situation for both pigs and peasants. With fewer people, food prices fell, and common people could afford more meat. But as pork became accessible to the lower orders, Europe's nobility began to spurn it. Archaeological evidence shows pig bones dwindling at castle sites after the Black Death, replaced by those of fowl, especially wild birds - the new marker of wealth. By the Renaissance, pork had become firmly associated with the "mean populace" - the poor and working classes who gathered at festivals to feast on roast pig and sausages. This transformation of pork from elite to common food established patterns that would persist for centuries in European culture. The pig's association with the rural poor and working classes would follow European settlers to the New World, where it would shape American attitudes toward pork well into the modern era. Meanwhile, the destruction of Europe's forests would eventually push pig-raising in new directions, setting the stage for the more intensive farming methods that would emerge in later centuries.

Chapter 4: Colonial Conquest: Pigs as Agents of Empire in the Americas

When Christopher Columbus returned to the Americas in 1493, his seventeen ships carried the seeds of ecological revolution. Along with plants like wheat and sugarcane, the expedition brought Europe's domestic animals, including pigs. This began what scholars call the "Columbian exchange," a massive transfer of species between continents that would transform environments and societies worldwide. Among these animal immigrants, pigs proved exceptionally successful colonizers, reproducing "in a superlative manner" according to early accounts. Within just two years of landing in the Caribbean, Spanish pigs were thriving, and soon "all the mountains swarmed with them." Unlike cattle and sheep, which struggled in the hot, wet climate, pigs adapted immediately to the American environment. They rooted up native crops, devoured fruits and small animals, and especially loved the jobo, a plum-sized fruit from a native tree. With no natural predators and abundant food, pig populations exploded - a herd of 24 pigs brought to Cuba reportedly grew to 30,000 in less than two decades. This porcine abundance proved crucial for Spanish conquest. The conquistadores Hernán Cortés, Francisco Pizarro, and Hernando De Soto all relied heavily on pigs as they invaded the mainland. While horses provided mobility and dogs attacked enemies, pigs formed a mobile food supply, trailing along at the rear of the column. De Soto's 1539 expedition to North America brought the first pigs to the continental United States. Starting with just thirteen animals, he carefully managed his herd, rarely allowing pigs to be slaughtered except in dire circumstances. When De Soto died along the Mississippi River in 1542, his property consisted of four slaves, three horses, and seven hundred pigs - an increase of more than 5,000 percent in less than four years. These pigs, and those brought by later colonists, would transform the North American landscape in ways that profoundly affected Native American communities. For Native Americans, European pigs became both opportunity and threat. Initially, many tribes acquired pigs, which substituted for disappearing deer and bears and offered a chance to preserve traditional ways of life. But ultimately, pigs helped destroy the indigenous landscape. They ravaged Indian crops, dug up stored grain, trampled reeds used for weaving, and devoured nuts and berries that Indians gathered for food. As Miantonomi, a Narragansett sachem, lamented in 1641: "These English having gotten our land, they with scythes cut down the grass, and with axes fell the trees; their cows and horses eat the grass, and their hogs spoil our clam banks, and we shall all be starved." Pigs thus served as the vanguard of empire, extending European influence far beyond actual settlements. Free-ranging and prolific, they helped drive native peoples from their land and clear the way for European colonization. This pattern would repeat itself across the American frontier for centuries to come, as pigs preceded settlers into new territories. The ecological transformation wrought by these animals facilitated the displacement of indigenous peoples and the establishment of European agricultural systems across the continent. The legacy of this porcine colonization continues to shape the American landscape today. Feral pigs, descendants of those early colonial imports, now number in the millions across the United States, causing billions of dollars in agricultural damage annually and threatening native ecosystems. What began as a crucial food source for European colonizers has become one of America's most destructive invasive species - a living reminder of the profound ecological consequences of the Columbian exchange.

Chapter 5: Industrial Revolution: The Birth of Modern Meat Production

By the early nineteenth century, the American Midwest had become the global center of pork production, creating what one observer called "the Republic of Porkdom." The key to this transformation was corn, which American farmers grew in breathtaking quantities. But corn was difficult to transport to distant markets, so farmers converted it into more valuable, easily transportable products: whiskey and pigs. As one contemporary noted, "What is a hog, but fifteen or twenty bushels of corn on four legs?" This insight captured the essential economic logic of the Corn Belt: pigs were a value-added product, a way to transform bulky grain into a more valuable commodity. Cincinnati emerged as the first great pork-packing center, earning the nickname "Porkopolis." Located on the Ohio River and surrounded by corn-growing regions, the city became home to dozens of slaughterhouses that transformed live hogs into barrels of salt pork. By the 1850s, Cincinnati was packing 2.3 million hogs annually. Later, Chicago would claim the title "hog butcher for the world," benefiting from its position at the terminus of multiple rail lines connecting the expanding Corn Belt to eastern markets. The railroads revolutionized pig transportation, eliminating the need for the great hog drives that had once seen thousands of pigs walking hundreds of miles to market. To handle the enormous volume of hogs, packers pioneered industrial techniques that would later revolutionize manufacturing. The modern pork-packing line, fully developed by the 1860s, featured a division of labor that impressed visitors. Pigs were hoisted by chain to an overhead rail, killed by a "sticker," scalded in hot water, scraped clean of hair, eviscerated, and sent to cooling rooms - all in a matter of minutes. This overhead rail system later inspired Henry Ford's automobile assembly line. "The genius of the packers' disassembly line," Ford explained, lay in "bringing the work to the men instead of the men to the work." Nothing was wasted in these industrial operations. Meat was salted and packed into barrels for shipment worldwide. Fat became lard, the primary cooking fat in America until the mid-twentieth century. Bristles became brushes, while finer hairs stuffed mattresses. Bones were stamped into buttons or cooked to make gelatin. Blood became fertilizer or was processed into albumin for the photographic industry. This comprehensive use of the carcass gave large packers an economic advantage over small operators who discarded by-products, allowing them to drive competitors out of business and consolidate the industry. The industrialization of meat processing transformed American diets and global trade. In the nineteenth century, Americans consumed vast quantities of pork - about 170 pounds per person annually by 1900, compared to 120 pounds in Britain and just 81 in France. Cheap American pork also helped improve nutrition for Europe's working classes, as part of a growing international food trade. However, this industrial system also created new problems. Upton Sinclair's 1906 novel The Jungle exposed horrific conditions in Chicago's meatpacking plants, leading to the passage of the Pure Food and Drug Act and the Meat Inspection Act. The industrial revolution in meat processing established patterns that would define modern food production: specialization, mechanization, economies of scale, and vertical integration. It created a model of efficiency that dramatically reduced the cost of meat while distancing consumers from the realities of production. This transformation would accelerate in the twentieth century as new technologies and business models pushed the industrialization of animal agriculture to unprecedented levels.

Chapter 6: Engineering 'The Other White Meat': Remaking Pigs (1950-2000)

In 1953, a watershed moment occurred in American meat consumption: for the first time, Americans ate more beef than pork. This shift reflected profound changes in American society - rising incomes, urbanization, and the spread of home refrigeration, which made fresh beef more accessible. The pork industry, facing declining market share and persistent consumer concerns about fat and safety, embarked on a radical reinvention of both its product and its image. This transformation would be so complete that by the 1980s, pork would be marketed not as an alternative to beef but as "The Other White Meat" - a competitor to chicken. The metamorphosis began with the pig itself. Traditionally, Corn Belt farmers had raised "lard-type" hogs - fat animals whose thick layers of back fat were once valuable for cooking, industrial lubricants, and other uses. But as vegetable oils replaced lard and health concerns about animal fats grew, the demand for pig fat plummeted. In response, scientists and farmers worked to breed leaner hogs. They created testing stations to monitor feed intake and carcass quality, allowing them to select breeding stock from animals that gained the most lean muscle while eating the least feed. By the 1970s, a pig of the same weight produced just over half as much lard as its counterpart from the 1950s. Simultaneously, pig farming underwent a revolution in housing and management. Before World War II, most American pigs lived outdoors, grazing on pasture and eating a varied diet. By the 1960s, farmers were moving pigs into confinement buildings with slatted floors that allowed waste to fall into gutters below. Feed, augered into the barns from nearby silos, consisted primarily of corn and soybeans supplemented with antibiotics, which promoted growth and prevented disease in crowded conditions. This system eliminated the "tedious and disagreeable" task of scraping manure from stalls and allowed more pigs to be raised with less labor. By the 1980s, the most advanced farms practiced "life-cycle housing," meaning pigs never felt mud beneath their hooves. Breeding sows spent their lives in "gestation crates," metal pens about seven feet long and two feet wide, moving to similar "farrowing crates" only when about to give birth. Piglets were weaned after just two to four weeks, and the sow returned to the gestation barn to receive a fresh tube of semen. Some sows produced five litters in two years - a pace impossible in traditional systems. After weaning, piglets ate carefully formulated feed until reaching market weight at five or six months. These changes in breeding and management created a fundamentally different animal. The pale color of modern pork - which would later inspire the marketing slogan "the other white meat" - resulted from confinement pigs rarely using their muscles. Myoglobin, the protein responsible for redness in meat, carries oxygen to working muscles; the less a muscle works, the paler its color. But this transformation came with costs. Some pigs developed "pale, soft, and exudative" meat - gray, mushy, and tasteless. Others became "super-nervous and high-strung," in the words of animal scientist Temple Grandin, with "much greater susceptibility to sudden death." In 1987, the National Pork Producers Council launched its famous "Pork - The Other White Meat" campaign, spending millions to convince consumers that pork was not bloody and fatty like beef but pale and lean like chicken. The campaign succeeded in changing perceptions - eight out of ten Americans recognized the phrase - but it couldn't fully overcome pork's image problems. The modern pig had been engineered for efficiency, not flavor. As one animal scientist observed, in the rush to create lean pigs, "pork quality has been completely ignored by swine breeders." The industry had created "the other white meat" - but in doing so, it had sacrificed much of what had once made pork distinctive and delicious.

Chapter 7: Ethics and Efficiency: Balancing Production with Animal Welfare

As the twenty-first century dawned, the industrialization of pig farming reached its logical conclusion. Small farms virtually disappeared, with the number of US hog farms dropping from 3 million in 1950 to just 79,000 in 2002 - a loss of more than 97 percent. Large corporations took control of every aspect of production, from breeding to retail. Smithfield Foods, the largest producer, controlled nearly a third of the market by 2010, operating under a vertically integrated system where independent farmers raised corporate-owned pigs according to strict specifications. This transformation brought undeniable efficiencies - in constant dollars, the price of pork was 30 percent lower in the 2000s than it had been in the 1950s. But this cheap meat came with hidden costs that increasingly concerned consumers. Environmental problems gained attention after a 1995 incident in North Carolina, where a failed dike on a manure lagoon released 25 million gallons of hog waste into the New River, killing millions of fish. Public health experts worried about the routine use of antibiotics in pig feed, which could contribute to the development of drug-resistant bacteria. Animal welfare emerged as perhaps the most emotionally charged issue, with gestation crates becoming a particular focus of criticism. Temple Grandin, a respected animal scientist, argued that such extreme confinement violated the pig's basic behavioral needs: "We've got to give animals a decent life... they've got to have something to do, they can't be bored, and they've got to be comfortable." These concerns reflected a broader shift in how many consumers viewed food. For decades, America's food system had operated on the principle of opacity: meat appeared in supermarkets, and consumers didn't ask many questions. But scandals and exposés had thrown open a window, and many consumers didn't like what they saw. Books like Eric Schlosser's Fast Food Nation (2001) and Michael Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma (2006) brought these issues to mainstream audiences, creating pressure for change. In response, major food companies including McDonald's, Burger King, and Walmart announced they would phase out pork from suppliers using gestation crates. Alternative production systems gained traction in this environment. Some farmers returned to raising pigs outdoors, marketing their products as "free-range," "pastured," or "humanely raised." Heritage breeds like Berkshire and Tamworth, prized for flavor rather than efficiency, made a comeback. Chefs and food writers celebrated traditional pork dishes and curing methods, educating consumers about the superior taste of pork from pigs raised with access to diverse foods and natural behaviors. Though these alternative systems remained a small fraction of the market, they demonstrated that more humane production was possible and established models that would influence the future direction of the industry. The global dimension of these issues became increasingly apparent as pork production expanded rapidly in developing nations, particularly China. With a pork-based cuisine and a growing middle class, China's appetite for pork has become insatiable. Chinese production has rapidly industrialized, adopting Western-style confinement operations and replacing traditional practices where pigs were fed on weeds and rice bran. This global expansion presents a fundamental tension: how to meet growing demand for meat while addressing concerns about animal welfare, environmental impact, and public health. The challenge for the 21st century is reconciling these sometimes contradictory demands. The history of pig production suggests that further change is inevitable, as the relationship between humans and pigs continues to evolve in response to changing values, technologies, and global needs. Finding a balance between efficiency and ethics, between meeting demand and respecting the nature of the animals we raise for food, remains one of the most pressing issues in our food system today.

Summary

The history of pigs in human civilization reveals a profound story of adaptation and transformation. From their origins as self-domesticating forest scavengers to their current status as products of industrial agriculture, pigs have been molded to meet human needs while maintaining their remarkable biological efficiency. Each major transition in this relationship - from forest foraging to backyard keeping, from mixed farming to industrial confinement - has increased productivity while fundamentally altering the nature of the human-pig relationship. The most dramatic shift occurred in the 20th century, when pigs moved from outdoor environments where they expressed natural behaviors to confined settings where efficiency trumped welfare. This transformation succeeded in making pork more affordable but created new problems related to animal suffering, environmental degradation, and public health. Looking forward, the challenge lies in developing systems that balance competing priorities - efficiency and welfare, affordability and sustainability, global demand and local impacts. The emerging middle path may incorporate elements of both traditional and modern methods: the efficiency of scientific breeding and nutrition combined with housing systems that accommodate pigs' natural behaviors. Consumers play a crucial role in this evolution through their purchasing decisions, as their willingness to pay premiums for humanely raised meat creates economic incentives for change. Meanwhile, policymakers face difficult questions about how to regulate an industry that spans the globe, with practices that affect everything from rural economies to public health. The story of pigs in human history continues to unfold, shaped by the same forces that have always defined this relationship: human needs and values, environmental constraints, and the remarkable adaptability of an animal that has been our companion for ten thousand years.

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Mark Essig

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