This is an issue on which I've written before, but Ted Frank poses it in a way that strikes particularly close to home:
Paging Professor Volokh, Ronald Bailey, and other libertarian bloggers: On what principled grounds can one distinguish between a ban on foie gras and a ban on dogfighting? If one accepts limits on the libertarian principle for animal cruelty, does that not imply that a democratic society can rationally choose to bar production of foie gras? I'm happy to have dogfighting outlawed. I'd prefer not to outlaw foie gras. Do I have any argument for the distinction besides my personal preference? Is it just the intelligence difference between dogs and geese? If so, why do we allow bacon? (Or does Deuteronomy have that last question right?)
Update: I'm late to the discussion apparently. Jim Henley, Julian Sanchez (who takes the hard-line view), and Megan McArdle (and Part 2); McArdle points to vegetarian libertarian Robert Nozick's take.
Update from Alex Tabarrok: "After attending dogfights it's rumored that on some nights Michael Vick would continue his bloody activities by dining on cow's flesh. No word yet on whether prosecutors will be seeking additional prison time."
As someone who has been known to slip bits of pâté de foie gras to his dogs when my good wife isn't looking, this strikes too close to home to be ignored.
Russell Kirk taught that "Conservatives value property for its own sake, of course; but they value it even more because without it all men and women are at the mercy of an omnipotent government." At the same time, however, conservatives do not make a fetish of property rights. After all, as Kirk also taught, "At heart, political problems are moral and religious problems." Finally, he followed Burke in believing that “the individual is foolish, but the species is wise.” The prudent statesman respects tradition precisely because the enduring truths of what Burke aptly called “original justice” are revealed slowly, with experience, over time. As John Randolph put it, providence moves slowly, but the devil always hurries. The conservative is guided "by the moral traditions, the social experience, and the whole complex body of knowledge bequeathed to us by our ancestors." We turn aside from ancient usage at our peril; far better to profit from the wisdom of our forbearers.
This is not to say that neither reason nor reform have no place in conservative thought. But the function of human reason within a moral tradition is not a critical one, seeking to expose the tradition’s faults, but rather a respectful one, seeking to learn what the tradition offers. Burke, for example, approved of those who “instead of exploding general prejudices, employ their sagacity to discover the latent wisdom which prevails in them. If they find what they seek, and they seldom fail, they think it more wise to continue the prejudice [i.e., tradition or custom], with the reason involved, than to cast away the coat of prejudice and to leave nothing but the naked reason.”
Beinging skeptical of individual reason, deferential to tradition, and convinced of the need for an enduring moral order in society, the conservative is doubtful that the Constitution enshrines John Stuart Mill's harm principle any more than "Mr. Herbert Spencer's Social Statics." Instead of blanket rules, we seek to comprehend the divine intent, groping towards it through history, myth, fable, custom, and tradition.
This perspective allows us to distinguish between dog fighting and foie gras. Although dog fighting has a long history, so does opposition to it. England prohibited it and other blood sports as early as 1835. There is a longstanding consensus in the Anglo-American tradition that blood sports are cruel and ought to be banned. The wisdom of the species thus justifies an infringement on human property rights.