The Future of Farming in Wales Isn’t Vegan — It’s Regenerative

The Future of Farming in Wales Isn’t Vegan — It’s Regenerative

When I read “The Future of Farming in Wales Is Vegan,” I didn’t expect to agree with much. It begins by claiming that Wales is “now dominated by cruel and destructive animal agriculture” and calling on the government to help farmers “quit unethical farming for good.” It’s a bold statement — and one that paints the entire Welsh farming landscape with the same brush. The piece appeals to our sense of kindness and national pride, saying that to restore nature and live up to our reputation for compassion we must give up animal farming altogether. It’s an emotional, powerful argument — but, to me, also an oversimplification. Of course industrial systems can be cruel and destructive, and of course there are farms in Wales that need reform. But there are also farmers rotating pastures, caring deeply for their animals, and building biodiversity rather than destroying it. To suggest the only ethical future is to end animal agriculture entirely ignores this reality.

I do agree with one of the article’s core points: many labels are greenwashed. “Free-range,” “RSPCA Assured,” Red Tractor — they often give consumers a warm feeling without changing much about how animals live. Labels are meant to reassure us, but they can mask problems. However, that doesn’t mean better systems don’t exist. Real regenerative farms exceed those standards because their animals are visible, local, and cared for by name, not number. Transparency and shorter supply chains actually improve welfare.

Another thing the article mentions — and here I think they’re right — is the toll industrial slaughterhouses take on workers. Humans aren’t designed to process thousands of animals a day. That scale forces disconnection and burnout. But the problem isn’t eating animals; it’s mass industrialisation. Our primal selves would have hunted sparingly, taken only what was needed, and used every part of the animal. A few people from the tribe might go out for rabbits, a deer, or whatever was available, share it with the community, and wait until the stores were low to hunt again. We’re not built to sit in a killing machine or outsource it to strangers on the other side of the supply chain. We’re built to be connected to our food.

That’s why I believe simply switching from meat to plants at an industrial scale won’t solve the problem. Industrial crop production — monocropping, heavy fertilisers, pesticides, imported plant proteins — has its own dark side. Indoor growing, hailed as a green miracle, often turns out energy-intensive and costly. Swapping one mass system for another doesn’t restore nature or health.

The article cites dramatic statistics from PETA and its British Farming campaign, calling the UK one of the most nature-depleted countries on Earth, nearly half of birds and a third of mammals at risk, pollinators disappearing, and more chickens on British farms than wild birds in the skies. The core truth is there — our biodiversity is in trouble, pollinators are declining, and our landscape is fragmented. But the leap from “we’ve lost nature” to “we must go vegan” skips over a crucial point: we can reverse many of these trends with regenerative, mixed farming. Well-managed grazing, hedgerows, and diversified land use can rebuild habitat for pollinators, birds, and mammals while still feeding people. It’s not animals themselves destroying nature; it’s the industrial scale and monoculture mindset.

I also question the “more chickens than wild birds” line. It’s rhetorically striking but hard to prove. Yes, at any given time there may be over 100 million chickens in Britain and fewer breeding pairs of wild birds. But wild bird populations fluctuate seasonally, and the UK is an island with limited land mass. Being an island with centuries of deforestation and high population density naturally supports fewer large mammals and less wilderness than a continent like North America. Migration patterns mean birds may pass through but not stay. These nuances matter when we make big claims.

The article repeats the well-publicised claim that vegan diets produce 75% less emissions and are healthier. This comes from UK studies comparing “average high-meat diets” to “average vegan diets.” And yes, the numbers are broadly accurate — on a national average, eating plants has a much lower footprint than eating feedlot beef and industrial dairy. But these studies aren’t comparing regenerative local lamb to imported vegan protein powders. They aren’t comparing nutrient-for-nutrient; they’re comparing calorie-for-calorie. And they’re assuming you’ll still eat the same total calories regardless of diet.

In reality, regenerative animal foods are different. A cow on pasture, rotated through permanent grassland, drinking from a stream, produces a vastly different footprint to a feedlot cow eating imported soy. Well-managed grazing can sequester carbon, improve biodiversity, and use land unsuitable for crops. And nutrient-for-nutrient, you’d need a far greater volume of plant foods plus supplements to match the iron, omega-3s, and fat-soluble vitamins in a small portion of regenerative meat or eggs. This nuance rarely shows up in the headlines but it matters for health, food security, and land stewardship.

Another overlooked aspect is satiety. High-protein, high-fat animal foods keep you fuller longer, so people naturally eat less total food and move into fasting rhythms without trying — the very rhythms our ancestors lived by. Instead of constant snacking on imported processed foods, a simple local carnivore or mixed ancestral diet can cut food waste, packaging, and supply chains while nourishing us more deeply. This is the mirror image of the vegan argument: just as removing meat lowers footprint in a standard diet, removing imported plant foods and relying on local regenerative animal foods could do the same in reverse.

Our own family lived the vegan ideal for years. We supplemented, planned, and even built a vegan farm. Yet our health declined. We reintroduced eggs and then meat from our own animals and saw a dramatic turnaround — improved energy, lifted brain fog, calmer moods in our children, fading speech delays and stutters. Bioavailability matters. Local animal foods provide nutrients in forms supplements can’t replicate. For some, veganism works. For many, it silently erodes health.

Food sovereignty matters too. Wales already imports much of its fruit and vegetables, and UK farm shops, for all their rustic charm, still sell dragon fruit, oranges, and other out-of-region products. Outsourcing our food makes us fragile. A real solution is not to banish animals but to shorten supply chains — grow food next door, build community hubs, and keep money circulating locally. If every village had a few market gardens, small-scale grazing, and a culture of sharing surplus, food would be cheaper, fresher, and more abundant.

Wales already has a model pointing in the right direction: the One Planet Development programme. This initiative allows people to build low-impact homes and livelihoods on the land if they can demonstrate they’re meeting most of their needs from that land. It’s an inspiring example of how policy can support smaller, mixed, regenerative lifestyles rather than push everyone toward industrial systems. Imagine expanding that concept — market gardens and small herds integrated with woodland and wildlife corridors, families producing much of their own food while selling surplus locally, villages sharing resources and skills. This isn’t a utopian dream; it’s already happening in pockets across Wales. Scaling it up could give us food security, biodiversity, and thriving rural communities without forcing an either/or choice between plants and animals.

And finally, there’s the cultural and spiritual side. Upland grazing, shepherding, and mixed farming are woven into Welsh identity. Removing animals risks not only ecological imbalance but cultural amnesia. For our family, faith and stewardship are inseparable. We see ourselves as caretakers, not consumers, entrusted to tend land and animals responsibly. That perspective doesn’t fit neatly into the vegan-versus-meat binary, but it’s where the real work happens.

The future of farming in Wales shouldn’t be framed as vegan versus meat. It should be about restoring land, empowering farmers, and decentralising our food system. The best path forward is neither industrial feedlots nor industrial monocrops but a mosaic of regenerative farms, market gardens, and community hubs. Wales deserves a farming future rooted in its land, its people, and its heritage — not another one-size-fits-all ideology.

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