Humans are naturally drawn to neat, compelling narratives that simplify complex issues into clear-cut battles of good versus evil. It’s a storytelling instinct that helps us make sense of the world, but it also leads us to oversimplify the real problems we face. When it comes to the state of our food systems, the dominant story points the finger at big business and flawed government policies, positioning them as the evil villains who exploit consumers and degrade the planet. The story we have been fed—if you’re reading this, I assume you’re in the camp that has heard this—is that government subsidies are the reason farmers grow what they grow. These subsidies are a result of collusion between big business and the government; they reduce the price of unhealthy food and are the driving force of why we eat what we eat. The story continues to say that even though the people are demanding healthy, regeneratively produced food, the government is unwilling to act and companies are unwilling to produce it. There are some elements of truth to this narrative, and the idea that big business has an ability to influence policy is certainly true. But government ignoring the will of the people to produce better food in better ways is not the reason our politics and our businesses are failing us. While this tale is easy to digest, it overlooks a more uncomfortable truth: Voters and consumers, the very people these systems serve, are complicit in the problem. At the root of this is our culture.
The reality is that most people don’t prioritize climate change or regenerative agriculture when making decisions about food and politicians. Most don’t even consider it. Convenience, price, and taste reign supreme in consumer choices, and as a result the market responds to those demands rather than focusing on sustainability. Right now, in the mass market, no one cares about regenerative agriculture (or has any idea what it is), and people are simply not willing to pay more for sustainably produced food. There are a number of reasons for that which we will discuss later, but this is a massive barrier to change. Similarly, politicians tend to craft policies that align with voter priorities. Right now, voters are not voting on climate policy, let alone food policy. In essence, while corporations and government are failing us, they are simply not going to change unless we change. Both our businesses and our politicians are reflections of our cultural values. We have not yet overcome the most fundamental obstacle to progress: widespread apathy or disinterest among the people who have the power to drive meaningful change. Our businesses will keep degrading the planet if consumers don’t purchase differently. Our politics will continue to fail if voters do not vote on these issues.
This is starkly reflected in the data around voter priorities in the 2024 election. According to a Pew Research Center survey, only 38 percent of registered voters consider climate change a “very important” issue in deciding their vote, placing it well behind concerns like the economy (81 percent) and health care (65 percent). Even among younger, more environmentally conscious voters, climate change often ranks behind issues like student debt and health-care access. In fact, a Gallup poll found that while 66 percent of Americans recognize climate change as a major issue, only 11 percent view it as their top concern for the election. And that is climate change as a whole; for the vast majority of voters, food policy is simply not a top issue.
These numbers reveal a sobering truth: While climate change is widely acknowledged, it is not treated with the urgency it deserves in the political arena. Voter priorities shape policy, and if the electorate doesn’t demand action on climate and sustainable food systems, politicians have little incentive and mandate to act, even if they actually care about the issue. But mostly, the reality is worse: The people we send to office tend to reflect our values, and the majority of us are simply not invested in these critical issues. Of course, democracy is not simply about voting and winning massive majorities at the ballot box: It’s also about calling your elected officials, going to town halls, and showing them that this issue does matter. The real challenge, then, is not just holding businesses and governments accountable; it’s that to do so, we need to be changing the mindset of the mass of voters and consumers who underpin these systems.
There is no getting around it. I cannot emphasize that enough. The hard truth is that we have to shift the core values of Americans’ food culture before we can bring about the changes in the food system we so desperately need. We may land some wins here and there, but the cultural barriers we currently face are a massive roadblock to true systemic change. Doing so is the hardest and most important thing to accomplish if we want to see food produced in a manner that harms neither the environment nor the humans who eat, and we need to do so in rapidly changing climatic conditions.
True, thanks to advocates’ efforts, “organic,” “local,” “seasonal,” and “artisanal” became buzzwords, and food culture has changed, but only for a minority of the population—primarily conscientious eaters who live in a bubble of distorted culinary reality. I am one of them, as are nearly all of the people in my social circle. I frequent “locavore” restaurants. My garden is the source of most of the produce my family eats in the warm seasons, with much of the remainder coming from nearby farms. But in reality, even after a couple of decades of exposure to the so-called food movement’s mantra, the vast majority of Americans give little thought to the food they eat aside from its cost, convenience, and taste. I don’t mean that as a criticism; it’s just seeing reality and understanding how much culture-change work lies ahead of us. Sales of organic food have doubled since the early ’00s. Which is great. But organic still represents a mere 6 percent of total grocery sales. Farmers markets, those cornucopias of local fare, have more than quadrupled in number since the turn of this century, but today local food represents a minuscule 1.5 percent of agricultural production’s value. So far, good-food advocates’ efforts, however praiseworthy, are not nearly enough to get the food system to where it needs to go in time to stave off catastrophe.
Although well meaning, the embryonic food movement preached to a choir of like-minded souls, but we neglected to consider how government and business leaders actually make decisions that have the potential to create massive changes in food production. As I learned in Washington, these leaders can safely ignore the entreaties of a well-meaning few, but they take careful measure of the majority of their constituents—voters for politicians, customers for business executives. The key question leaders ask before taking any action is, What changes do our constituents want? What do they need? Neither politicians nor business executives will take on much risk unless they are pushed by constituents and stakeholders, and believe the risk will pay off. Only after they are confident the conditions will result in positive outcomes do legislators and managers of successful businesses begin to take action in earnest. Pressure to act is important, but in the end a smaller part of the equation. Winning on the other side of risk taking will drive far more change. Meaning, if a politician successfully moves us in the right direction, do they see fundraising numbers go up and improved chances of winning the next election? If the answer is yes, we will see more and more action on the issues we care about. If a business leader launches a new regeneratively sourced product, do they see sales spike and continue to grow? If the answer is yes, we will see more and more products launching with sustainable ingredients. Our cultural values underpin our politics and business.
Unfortunately, shifting people’s attitudes toward food is an amorphous task. Progress, if we are fortunate enough to get it, is painstakingly slow and can be boring—the opposite of a silver bullet. It often comes, if it comes at all, in imperceptible increments. Changing culture is also messy and complicated. This is true in any area, but doubly so with food culture. In tinkering with it, you are messing with people’s very identity. Food is one of the deepest expressions of our identity. It is how we express who we are and who we are not. It is how we show love to ourselves, our families, and our communities. What we eat ties us to our ancestors and our childhoods. When we are told what we are eating is bad, the implication is that we are bad. No one wants to hear that from anyone else, let alone the government. And the tricky part is that everyone happens to be an expert on food. After all, most of us eat at least three times a day.
No wonder food activists generally haven’t focused effort on the challenge of culture and instead move directly to try to change government policies and politicians’ priorities. But that shortcut dramatically limits what we can accomplish through policy. It’s no wonder why politicians are generally very cautious when approaching any major food-related policy issue. Politicians will never move forward unless they feel the pressure of culture pushing them in that direction. This failure to lay the necessary cultural groundwork is the main reason why we’ve seen so little in the way of concrete change we hope for.
Excerpted from THE LAST SUPPER: How to Overcome the Coming Food Crisis by Sam Kass. Copyright © 2025 by Sam Kass. Published by Crown, an imprint of The Crown Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House LLC.
Photo courtesy of Nina Luong, Unsplash
