An unprecedented study of animal industry investigators reveals systemic issues in how these vital members of the animal advocacy community are employed, valued, and supported. This blog from Reporters For Animals explores the findings.
Every major exposé, countless campaigns, and legislative victories often begin with a single, quiet, yet dangerous act: someone stepping into the horror of a factory farm, their eyes-burning from the air thick with ammonia, the danger of getting caught – and the distress of those held captive there. Taking pictures, filming the conditions the animals live in, or placing hidden cameras to capture how workers treat the animals, investigators document what others want to keep secret. And then, they vanish — no trace, no sound, and hopefully, unnoticed.
Often these investigators remain invisible, not only to the public eye but also within our movement. For safety and security reasons, little is publicly known about the people who document the reality of the animal industry; their footage may be known, but not their challenges. The struggles they face are often overlooked, and we only know vaguely what their jobs are like. Everybody caring for animals can assume how challenging it is, but the picture we have is blurry. Stories we hear have been passed on and often do not illustrate the full picture.
In this article, we’ll look closer into the paradox between the critical contributions of investigators and their frequently marginalized status. At Reporters for Animals International, we see investigations as the backbone of our movement, and we work to strengthen this community and individuals to foster exchange of knowledge and a sense of solidarity within this sub-group of our movement.
To that end, we recently conducted a survey to better understand investigator wellbeing: Roughly 130 investigators are part of our community, and of those, 47 people from 22 countries took part in our extensive survey. On average, they spent 30 minutes answering our questions. We asked about the focus of their investigations, how long they have been working in the field, how much they earn, and how they are coping mentally.
So let us dive right in. The nature of the campaigns that investigations support vary: ‘Legislative campaigns’ were the most common, followed closely by ‘Vegan outreach’ and corporate pressure efforts. This range is illustrative in showing that investigations are not a single purpose tool: they are used by all kinds of advocacy groups, driven by diverse campaign tactics and strategies.
Even though working as an investigator is an especially challenging job — you might think people try to leave as soon as they possibly can — our data suggest quite the opposite: most respondents stated they have worked in this job for more than three years, with an average of eight years of service.
Despite long years of service, however, half of respondents stated that they work as freelancers, while roughly a third carry out this work as unpaid volunteers.
This means that, even though they are working for established organizations, a strong proportion of investigators are still being treated like activists in grassroot groups. It also speaks to a double-standard, as you would be hard-pressed to find unpaid volunteers in high level positions as corporate campaign managers or fundraisers. No one would want unpaid staff being in charge of a donor database, so why would anyone want to send investigators out into the night to get the proof for their next campaign and risk their safety – and not pay them?
As such, it does not come as a surprise that financial struggles are real among investigators: Two thirds report they earn less than 20,000 EUR / USD per year. To be clear, this also includes earning no money at all for their work. It is hard to compare these incomes as this is an international community where cost of living varies, and it also includes part-time and full-time employment. However, this statistic clearly shows that crawling through shit to get images for the next campaign is not a making anyone rich — it is barely above the poverty line. This is in stark contrast to last year’s Faunalytics exclusive report on compensation in the farmed animal advocacy sector in the U.S., where a median salary of 80,000 USD across all job levels was reported. Not only are the support structures inconsistent across the movement, so is the financial compensation.
Thus, it only makes sense that two thirds of the surveyed investigators also state that they ‘sometimes’, ‘often’ or even ‘always’ have financial concerns. When asked an open question “What would have to happen in your opinion to keep more investigators in the job?”, the solution most mentioned by the investigators was on the topic of financial security and compensation (62%, or 18 of 29 responses).
We know from many personal conversations with investigators what a challenge it is for them to get a pay raise – especially for freelancers: How can you stand up for better wages if you are the invisible night worker who nobody even knows? Their work remains in a grey zone. It does not matter where in the world you work as an investigator, facing harsh consequences from farmers, companies, and the government is part of the job description. With those types of concerns front of mind, advocating for oneself is an additional burden. How can you find the time and energy to demand equal payment with your colleagues at the headquarters office?
We are talking about the compensation of one of the hardest but also crucial roles within this movement. However, it is a dangerous job in every sense — it puts your safety and your emotional well-being at risk. It is important to emphasize, not to be dramatic, but to accurately convey the reality: Yes, you may endure physical harm, and the likelihood of being arrested and spending time in jail is high. Even if you manage to navigate those risks, there remains one undeniable truth: the emotional toll of witnessing the suffering of trapped animals you leave behind night after night, day after day. Given this, it’s hardly surprising that 65% of investigators reported that this job has affected their health. Emotional strain is a very common experience: only 17% of respondents did not mention they had had emotional difficulties over the past month. And it’s worth emphasizing that all of this data is self-reported. While investigators may occasionally share thrilling or dangerous stories from their work, they typically shy away from revealing their scars — especially the emotional ones.
All of this brings us to a fundamental question: Why are investigators so often treated as an afterthought? While we watch the footage, we certainly know someone was holding the camera that captured this scene. For many good reasons, that someone wants (or sometimes has to) stay anonymous. This places a huge responsibility in the hands of the NGOs that carry the campaigns run by these images.
This phenomenon of “role invisibility” — where high-risk, labor-intensive roles are celebrated symbolically but structurally marginalized — is a key challenge we need to address, not only for the affected investigators but for the whole movement.
When many in the movement speak about investigators, it is often a very distorted image they have, which usually has nothing in common with how investigators see themselves. It is bound up in a narrative of the “self-sacrificing activist” and the hero that is capable of things others could never do, being the witness to the horror we all want to end. But this hero narrative is dangerous because it serves to obscure the real life problems investigators face. It discourages individuals from seeking the support they need.
The reality is that, there is no magic involved and no super-powers inherent to doing investigative work. Many different skills are required, and the skills are not always transferable to other parts of the movement, but it largely just takes a lot of time and effort to get the results. In some cases, the “hero” framing can even obscure the systemic issues that contribute to investigator burnout, suggesting personal resilience alone is sufficient to sustain the work.
To be clear, the issues raised here are not merely about fairness: the movement’s treatment of investigators is a strategic flaw. A movement that fails to protect and retain its investigators undermines its own capacity for impact. Recognizing, supporting, and professionalizing investigative work must be prioritized if the movement is to sustain its momentum and ethical integrity. We can clearly see how the movement has professionalized in the last decade, but many investigators have been left behind in the process. While NGO office workers celebrate victories, investigators quietly move on to the next case. Yet, our movement has to understand: they are still here, and so are their struggles.
