Open rescue isn’t an alternative to pragmatic campaigning. It’s the missing piece.

In this post:

• Open rescue historically hasn’t delivered concrete change for animals.
• But the action at Ridglan Farms this weekend shows that it can do so much more. While open rescue historically hasn’t been used as part of sustained, winnable campaigns, bringing these two together would strengthen them both.
• On a more subtle level, open rescue is one of the only actions we take which in its tone is proportionate to the atrocity we are fighting. If no part of our movement was taking proportionate action, part of our soul could wither.

A familiar feeling washed over me this past Sunday morning. It washed over me along with a thick spray of manure thrown up off rain-soaked farmland by the wheels of a pickup truck driven by the maniacally enraged brother-in-law of the general manager of a dog factory farm outside Madison, Wisconsin.

It’s hard to describe this feeling. Not the feeling of the manure, but the state of mind in which I didn’t care about the manure, nor about the respectable, dress-code-compliant clothes it was probably ruining.

All around me were dozens of animal activists, many of them nestled inside white biosecure coveralls, most of those carrying beagles. These beagles were in the process of being rescued from Ridglan Farms, one of those dark hellish corners of the world that goodness herself has forgotten. They were getting their first glimpse of sunlight after a lifetime of uninterrupted torture that would make de Sade blush.

It was not guaranteed that I should find myself here, feeling this familiar, hard-to-describe feeling– the feeling of open rescue. I had started to think I would never feel it again.

Years ago, I had believed that mass open rescues like this were the key to achieving total animal liberation. But I eventually lost faith, drifting towards forms of advocacy that I thought of as trading in excitement for tangible impact.

When the call came from an old friend asking me to come out of open rescue retirement to take on Ridglan, I thought I’d say no. But the thought kept nagging at me. It was only when that soggy manure splattered against my glasses that I finally understood why.

Without open rescue, there has been a hole in the animal rights movement. Its absence threatens to make us lose sight of something invaluable, something that matters far beyond the grassroots wing.

At the same time, Ridglan shows how open rescue can be done smarter than in the past. Through my shit-speckled glasses, I finally saw how open rescue should be a key part of the toolbox for Team Win, and resolved that I’ll never miss another chance to be part of it.

The Spray

A familiar feeling washed over me past Sunday morning—one mixed with manure spray from a pickup truck driven by the enraged brother-in-law of a dog factory farm manager outside Madison, Wisconsin.

All around were animal activists in biosecure coveralls, many carrying beagles rescued from Ridglan Farms, a dark corner where thousands of dogs spent their lives in battery cages awaiting torture in vivisection labs. They experienced their first sunlight after lifelong captivity.

I felt an acute sense that history was being made. I had joined activists breaking into facilities and removing animals from cages. Years ago, I believed mass open rescues were key to animal liberation. I eventually lost faith, drifting toward advocacy I thought traded excitement for tangible impact.

But when the call came to participate in Ridglan, something shifted. Through my manure-speckled glasses, I finally understood: “open rescue should be a key part of the toolbox for Team Win.”

You can just do things

I got my start at the 2015 National Animal Rights Conference in Washington, DC. Direct Action Everywhere most appealed to me—the organization seemed proportionate to the moral crisis of factory farming.

In May 2017, DxE staged a rescue at a wet market in San Francisco’s Chinatown. Two hundred activists descended; dozens went inside, loading chickens and quails into waiting vans. Police arrested our founder Wayne Hsiung as he pleaded with authorities to release remaining animals to a sanctuary.

My friend Zach was crying. When I expressed confusion, he explained: “I just can’t believe that is the world we live in. The police are arresting someone for trying to rescue innocent animals.”

That moment crystallized everything. We weren’t just staging theater—we were part of the world, taking proportionate action against documented atrocity.

It wasn’t working

After two years and half a dozen mass actions, our strategy clearly wasn’t delivering the systemic change we’d envisioned. Media coverage remained underwhelming. Courtroom victories didn’t translate to legal precedent. Logistically complicated actions spread slower than hoped.

I stepped away, reconsidering campaigns I’d previously dismissed. What I discovered: many groups fighting fur, foie gras, and battery cages shared a different theory of change. They focused laser-like on corporate and political decision-makers rather than mass public conversion, escalating pressure until capitulation became less painful than resistance.

These pragmatic campaigns were delivering concrete results—fur bans, cage-free policies, victories against multinational corporations. DxE attracted more media attention, but through increasingly extreme stunts, not sustained narrative building.

Ridglan Farms rescue was the best of both worlds

When Wayne called about Ridglan, several points stood out. Unlike previous actions, this culminated a nearly decade-long battle.

Ridglan Farms housed thousands of beagles destined for vivisection research. In 2017, Wayne’s team conducted undercover investigation, rescuing two dogs. After charges against investigators were dropped on eve of trial, Wayne secured appointment of a special prosecutor—an independent attorney investigating due to conflict of interest.

The special prosecutor built hundreds of felony animal abuse cases. Rather than face trial, Ridglan agreed to forfeit its breeding license by July 1, 2026. But this meant 2,500 beagles remained trapped for eight months.

Wayne announced activists would rescue them ourselves. Hundreds signed up within weeks—many from dog and cat rescue networks previously uninvolved in animal rights activism.

But that doesn’t really explain why I joined

Unlike past rescues, Ridglan represented a winnable campaign with popular support. The demand seemed reasonable compared to “animal liberation now.” The Trump administration signals interest in ending federal animal testing support.

Success has been spectacular. Press coverage possibly exceeded all previous DxE mass rescues combined. “Baywatch Star Alexandra Paul Arrested in Wisconsin Beagle Rescue” trended nationally days later.

Yet this external success wasn’t ultimately why I came out of retirement. Dean Wyrzykowski noted my earlier posts questioned whether dog campaigns would translate to broader opposition to animal farming. Before the action, I couldn’t articulate my reasoning—only that I wasn’t certain enough about abstract strategy to pass up actually rescuing dogs from Ridglan.

Proportionate action

We declare factory farming a historic moral atrocity. What happens if no movement faction ever takes proportionate action?

First, the public stops taking us seriously. We lose our best chance confronting them with factory farming’s dissonance.

Second, our leadership pipeline degrades. Organizations can’t find promising campaigner candidates—many today started as volunteer activists. Open rescue particularly promises attracting and training new talent.

At Ridglan, I noticed eight years ago DxE could mobilize hundreds of known, vouched activists. That dispersed during Covid. Most Sunday participants were new activists—many omnivores whose activism involved volunteering at local shelters. Shelters don’t prepare you for cutting chain-link fences with angle grinders, smashing reinforced steel doors with sledgehammers, or steering vans with slashed tires while “a homicidal maniac in a pickup truck tries to ram you into a ditch.”

Ridglan was our hardest target ever. They knew we were coming. Nearly every barn entrance featured quarter-inch steel mesh and alarm systems notifying police immediately upon entry.

Success depended on leaders Wayne built over ten years. I watched old friends—people I didn’t know would be there—confidently performing specialized roles under enormous pressure. Each reminded me of moments when we were both new activists learning hard lessons we now practiced.

What board meetings can’t give you

But something deeper matters. A movement built on moral force loses its soul without direct action.

Welfare campaigns represent our greatest victory. Cage-free has concretely improved life for hundreds of millions of animals. Open rescue hasn’t achieved remotely similar magnitude.

Yet if I reviewed eleven years as activist today and found nothing resembling open rescue, part of me would be dead. Part of the movement’s soul would be dormant. After eleven years of board meetings, we’d have stopped believing our own declarations.

Lincoln Quirk, a founder of a billion-dollar tech startup, explained it better. He spent Sunday in jail after carrying a beagle from Ridglan. He wrote: “Through this action I wanted to show that there are things that any person can do…I think some altruists suffer from lack of moral courage…I want to be asking more often, ‘how can we be more altruistic?’”

When I first joined DxE, I’d read animal rights philosophy for years. I thought I believed it. Only surrounded by others genuinely believing it did I realize how much social pressure held me back from truly internalizing these ideas, from letting my brain reach their logical conclusion. It’s one thing declaring belief. It’s different having it transform your worldview entirely. It’s yet another having your body get the message: “yes, we really believe this, and we’re putting it into practice.”

We’re bringing sexy back

Before Ridglan, I couldn’t articulate what to write. Dean Wyrzykowski noted surprise seeing me there, pointing to posts where I questioned whether dog campaigns would benefit broader farm animal opposition.

Before the action, I could only explain that whatever abstract impact ideas I held, I wasn’t certain enough to pass up actually getting dogs away from Ridglan. I thought my post would address strategic humility and occasionally doing something concrete.

But the action exposed false dichotomy in my thinking. Viewing open rescue as alternative to focused campaigns was wrong. They’re different artifacts—incomparable.

DxE’s early rescues failed because they weren’t sustained, winnable campaigns with popular support. But they could be! Ridglan proves it. It answers dilemmas I spent my last post wrestling with.

There’s no reason open rescue couldn’t capstone pragmatic campaigns targeting fur, foie gras, gestation crates, battery cages. Many campaigns already justify open rescue as legitimate escalation, much as media and public view Ridglan.

In my last post, I asked why animal movements haven’t recreated British live export movement successes thirty years ago, when crowds exceeding one thousand shut down towns like Brightlingsea daily for months, stopping sheep shipments. Key fact: most protesters were ordinary omnivorous locals, not vegan activists traveling nationwide. The story had local salience.

Something similar happened at Ridglan. Years of courtroom drama meant local newspaper readers knew the story and horrific abuses. Not abstract animal rights questions—morbid cruelty in their backyard. How better could strategists sharpen this drama than inviting local communities to participate in well-advertised open rescue? If they’d do it for dogs, why not sheep, foxes, pigs, or force-fed ducks?

Perhaps you’re running related campaigns. Maybe you’ll give us our next target. Open rescue is back.

Build on,

Sandcastles

Mantras:

• What would happen if no part of our movement ever took proportionate action to our own claims? “A part of the movement’s soul would be dead, or at least dormant.”

• You can just do things.

• Open rescue and focused campaigns aren’t alternatives—they’re different types of artifact. Open rescue could capstone pragmatic campaigns targeting fur, foie gras, gestation crates, and battery cages.