The Tennessee Walking Horse Industry and the Myth of Social License in Agriculture

Written by: Tommy Williams
email:tommywhc@aol.com
931-492-2825
WHC Publisher-Williams Media Entertainment

The Tennessee Walking Horse industry stands as a testament to the resilience and adaptability of American agriculture. Over the years, this storied breed—celebrated for its smooth gait and gentle temperament—has made significant strides in addressing animal welfare concerns, modernizing training practices, and engaging with critics. By any measure, it has done more to earn public trust than many sectors within the equine world. Yet, this progress raises a critical question: Should agriculture, an industry rooted in feeding, clothing, and sustaining society, ever feel compelled to bow to the nebulous concept of “social license”?

Let us be clear: The Tennessee Walking Horse industry’s efforts to improve transparency and prioritize equine well-being are commendable. Breeders, trainers, and organizations have worked diligently to shed outdated practices, adopt science-backed methods, and collaborate with veterinarians and inspectors. These steps were not taken to placate activists or chase trends but to ensure the longevity of a cultural legacy and the health of the animals themselves. Agriculture, at its core, is about stewardship—a responsibility farmers and ranchers take seriously without external pressure.

But herein lies the problem. The very idea of “social license”—the notion that industries must seek perpetual permission from the court of public opinion to operate—is a slippery slope. It distracts from agriculture’s fundamental mission: producing food, fiber, and resources efficiently and ethically. Social license is not a measurable standard. It shifts with the winds of ideology, often weaponized by those who prioritize emotion over evidence, or who view farming through an urbanized, romanticized lens disconnected from practical realities.

Agriculture is not a boutique industry. It cannot function as a political pendulum, swinging toward whichever cultural movement shouts loudest. The Tennessee Walking Horse industry, like all agricultural sectors, exists within a framework of laws, regulations, and time-tested expertise. To suggest it must also cater to the whims of “woke” activism—a movement increasingly divorced from pragmatism—is to undermine the very principles that keep food on tables and rural economies intact.

Critics will argue that social accountability ensures progress. But let’s call this what it is: a Trojan horse for ideological control. When activists demand that farmers conform to ever-changing social mandates—whether on environmental practices, animal welfare, or labor—they ignore the complexity of agricultural systems. These demands are often led by individuals who’ve never set foot in a barn, balanced a feed budget, or faced the consequences of a failed harvest. Agriculture innovates, but it does so through necessity and experience, not hashtags or virtue signaling.

The Tennessee Walking Horse industry’s evolution should be celebrated as proof that agriculture is capable of self-correction and growth. But let it also serve as a warning: When we allow industries to be governed by social license, we risk eroding the autonomy of those who feed us. Agriculture is not a playground for political agendas. It is the backbone of civilization—and it deserves respect, not condescension.

To my fellow agriculturists: Take pride in your work. Continue to improve, adapt, and educate. But never apologize for rejecting the pressure to conform to a “woke” worldview that values performative outrage over practical solutions. Our license to operate is written in the soil, the sweat, and the generations of knowledge that sustain this nation. No activist’s approval can ever replace that.