Animals Are Here For Us

Argument #11 of 13

The Argument

Everything in nature has a purpose, a role to play in the ecosystem. Predators exist to control prey populations. Pollinators exist to fertilize plants. Decomposers exist to break down organic matter. And food animals exist to be food. This isn't cruel—it's simply their ecological function.

Look at domesticated animals. Chickens, cows, pigs, sheep—these animals have been selectively bred over thousands of years specifically to be food for humans. They exist in their current form because we made them this way. A modern dairy cow produces far more milk than her calf needs because we bred her to do so. Meat chickens grow to market weight in weeks because that's what they were designed for. These animals literally would not exist if not for animal agriculture.

Without human consumption, what would be the purpose of these billions of animals? They can't survive in the wild—they've been domesticated for too long. They lack the instincts and abilities to fend for themselves. A Holstein dairy cow or a Cornish Cross chicken released into nature would die quickly and miserably. Their entire existence is predicated on being part of the human food system.

In a very real sense, these animals owe their existence to us eating them. If everyone went vegan tomorrow, these species would essentially go extinct. We wouldn't keep breeding billions of animals we're not using. So the choice isn't between farm animals living free, happy lives versus being eaten—it's between existing as food animals or not existing at all.

This is symbiosis, not exploitation. We provide these animals with food, shelter, protection from predators, and veterinary care. In exchange, they provide us with meat, milk, and eggs. For most of human history, this has been understood as a fair exchange—a mutually beneficial relationship where both species thrive. Humans get nutrition, and these animal species achieve evolutionary success by being numerous and well-cared-for.

From an evolutionary perspective, being delicious to humans has been an incredibly successful survival strategy. There are over 1 billion cattle on Earth, 1 billion sheep, and over 30 billion chickens. Compare that to their wild counterparts, many of which are endangered or extinct. If success means ensuring your genes continue, then food animals are among the most successful species on the planet—precisely because they fulfill their purpose of feeding humans.

To say we shouldn't eat them is to deny them their purpose, to say their existence is meaningless. That seems far crueler than giving them a life and a role, even if that role ends with becoming food. Purpose gives meaning, and these animals' purpose is clear.

The Response

Before examining the specific claims, let's notice something fundamental: "Animals are here for us" isn't an argument—it's an assertion of dogma. It states a premise as if it were a conclusion.

But even if we accept this premise, it's incomplete. Here for us to do what? Are animals here for us to:

• Eat?
• Love as companions?
• Abuse for entertainment?
• Mutilate in experiments?
• Play with?

The statement needs to specify the action before it means anything. But that's not enough. Even if we say "animals are here for us to eat," we need to ask: Under what conditions?

• When we need to eat them to survive?
• When we want to eat them for pleasure?
• Whenever we feel like it?

These conditions fundamentally change the moral weight of the claim. "Animals are here for us to eat when we need to for survival" is very different from "animals are here for us to eat whenever we want to for taste pleasure." The distinction between necessity and desire is what separates ethical situations from unethical ones.

Consider how adding the action and conditions creates statements people actually agree or disagree with:

• "Animals are here for us to abuse whenever we want." → Almost everyone disagrees. This is clearly immoral.
• "Animals are here for us to eat for survival when necessary." → Even most vegans agree. Survival scenarios are different.
• "Animals are here for us to eat for taste pleasure whenever we want." → This is where the disagreement actually lies. Vegans say no, meat-eaters say yes.
• "Animals are here for us to love and care for as companions." → Almost everyone agrees this is acceptable.

Notice how the moral evaluation changes completely depending on what we specify. The distinction isn't trivial—it's the entire debate. Simply saying "animals are here for us" without these specifics is like saying "it's okay to take things"—well, is it okay to take a life jacket in an emergency, or okay to take whatever you want from a store? The conditions matter enormously.

Without specifying both what action and under what conditions, the statement "animals are here for us" is meaningless—it's just a premise stated as a conclusion. The entire question under debate is whether it's ethical to eat animals, and this response simply declares "they're here for us" as though that settles it.

This form of reasoning can justify anything:

• "Slaves are here for us to use for labor."
• "Women are here to serve men."
• "That stuff in the store is there for us to take."
• "Weaker nations are there for stronger nations to conquer."

"That's just how it is" has been the justification for countless atrocities throughout history. But it's not an ethical justification—it's just a description of a power dynamic. The fact that we can do something, or that we've been doing something, tells us nothing about whether we should continue doing it.

Now, let's move beyond this fundamental flaw and engage with the actual reasoning being offered. This argument confuses "what we designed something to do" with "what gives that thing moral value." Let me demonstrate why this reasoning fails with a simple thought experiment:

Imagine I selectively breed humans for generations to create a subspecies with diminished cognitive abilities but increased muscle mass, specifically designed to be slaves. After thousands of years, this subspecies can't survive without human masters providing for them. They exist in massive numbers—billions of them—because slavery has made them evolutionarily "successful." By the logic of this argument, I should conclude: slavery is symbiosis, these humans owe their existence to being slaves, and freeing them would deny them their purpose.

Obviously, this is monstrous. But why? Because purpose doesn't grant permission to harm. The fact that we bred something for a specific use doesn't make that use ethical. We don't determine morality by pointing to what we've done—we determine it by examining whether what we've done is justified.

Let's address each claim directly:

"These animals wouldn't exist without us eating them." True, but irrelevant. Non-existence isn't a harm. There's no moral obligation to bring beings into existence. What matters is whether, once they exist, we treat them in ways that respect their capacity to suffer. A life of confinement, separation from offspring, bodily mutilation, and premature death is not a gift—even if the alternative is non-existence.

By this logic, I could justify breeding humans into slavery by saying "well, these specific individuals wouldn't exist if not for the slavery system, so slavery gave them life." We rightly reject this reasoning for humans. The question is: what morally relevant difference exists that makes it valid for animals?

"This is symbiosis—we provide food and shelter, they provide meat." Symbiosis requires mutual benefit where both parties have agency. The animal doesn't choose this arrangement. We forcibly impregnate them, take their offspring, confine them in conditions that maximize our profit (not their wellbeing), and kill them at a fraction of their natural lifespan. That's not symbiosis—it's exploitation dressed up in friendly language.

A master who provides food and shelter to enslaved people doesn't transform slavery into symbiosis. The "exchange" isn't voluntary, and the end involves killing the other party. No actual symbiotic relationship involves one party breeding, confining, and slaughtering the other.

"They're evolutionarily successful because there are billions of them." Evolutionary success measured by population numbers is morally meaningless. By this metric, factory farming is good for chickens because there are 30 billion of them. But those 30 billion live in conditions so horrific that many can't even stand by the time they're slaughtered at 6 weeks old. Their bodies have been bred to grow so fast their legs can't support their weight.

Would you apply this reasoning to humans? "Sure, we keep these humans in tiny cages and kill them young, but look how many there are! This proves the arrangement is good for them!" Population size has nothing to do with welfare or moral justification.

"Denying them their purpose is cruel." Animals don't have "purposes" in the teleological sense being implied here. They have interests—in avoiding suffering, in expressing natural behaviors, in living. The "purpose" isn't inherent to the animal; it's a function we assigned to justify using them.

Here's the core issue: When we say "this being exists to serve my needs," we're not discovering a fact about the universe—we're making a moral claim that needs justification. And "I bred them this way" doesn't provide that justification any more than "I raised them from birth" would justify a parent abusing their child.

The fact that we've created beings who are dependent on us doesn't give us permission to harm them—if anything, it creates a greater responsibility to protect their welfare. We made them vulnerable. That's not a license to exploit that vulnerability; it's an obligation to not abuse it.

Finally, the entire framing is a distraction. The question isn't "what should we do with all these farm animals?" The question is: "Should we continue breeding billions of animals into existence for the purpose of killing them when we have alternatives?" The answer depends on whether we can justify the suffering we cause, not on whether we can tell a story about purpose that makes us feel better about it.