I got an advance copy of the book because I'm working on a review for the NC State Bar Journal.
Wastelands tells a good story, a true story, about something that matters: a widespread challenge by hog farm neighbors to the obnoxious neighborhood effects of industrial hog production.
Sometimes would come hog odor, air-borne crap (literally), sometimes dead animals overflowing "dead boxes." Five "test case" jury trials in federal court in Raleigh, North Carolina, some selected by the neighbors, some selected by the lawyers for the Smithfield Foods subsidiary that owned the hogs and arranged for their care. The five trials resulted in five verdicts: Each of the juries found Smithfield's sub to be liable for "nuisance." Four of the juries awarded punitive damages. Three awarded punitive damages in the millions of dollars (though, unbeknownst to the juries, these punitives awards would be trimmed under NC law capping punitives), one in the hundreds of millions. One appeal decided by the Fourth Circuit in Richmond, which affirmed the damages verdict and the right to punitives. Then a confidential settlement.
I know of no other group of cases in which juries have spoken so strongly in disapproval of a company's actions.
The North Carolina legislature, in sympathy with Smithfield Farms, struck back: it legislatively altered the common law claim for "nuisance" to effectively prohibit future cases. It enacted a law that described the cases, in a "whereas" clause in the text of the bill itself, as "frivolous."
Wastelands tells this story and tells it well. And if the story is widely circulated, that would be a good thing, and would maybe help mean future changes.
The following description of hog operations comes from the concurring opinion of Judge J. Harvey Wilkinson III of the Fourth Circuit Court of Appeals, in Richhmond, Va., in the one appeal that was decided:
"The warp in the human-hog relationship, and the root of the nuisance in this suit, lay in the deplorable conditions of confinement prevailing at Kinlaw, conditions that there is no reason to suppose were unique to that facility. Confinement defined life for the over 14,000 hogs—all of which Murphy-Brown owned—that Kinlaw Farms had crammed into its twelve confinement sheds. Consistent with Kinlaw's role as a “finishing” facility, hogs arrived at around forty pounds, to be fattened to over seven times their starting weight. The one thing that never grew with the hogs, though, was the size of their indoor pens. Even though “[h]ogs grow bigger now,” the pens’ design has not changed a whit in twenty-five years. The sad fate of Kinlaw's hogs was, therefore, to remain in these densely packed pens from the time they arrived to the time they were shipped for slaughter, straining in vain as their increasing girth slowly but surely reduced them to almost suffocating closeness."
McKiver v. Murphy-Brown, LLC, 980 F.3d 937, 979 (4th Cir. 2020) (citations omitted).
The root of the problem is something that should matter to all of us. Wastelands shows how industrial food operations work and how they fight to avoid change. But things need to change. This is our food, and our planet. Industrial-scale pork, at least as currently practiced, is neither sustainable nor moral.
Buy Wastelands, read it: sunlight is said to be the best disinfectant. Give a copy to your neice who is thinking about law school, or to your uncle who gives money to Save the Whales, maybe to a political candidate.
And, as one of my former partners used to say: "Thanks for listening to my rant."
Jerry Hartzell
Raleigh, NC