To Lead or Be Led? continuation of farm subsidies, despite perpetual food surplus, stems
from politicians’ adept leveraging of the power of food.
In the name of food, wars have been launched, lands conquered,
people enslaved, and freedoms lost. In 0 , rising food prices in Tunisia
ignited demonstrations that spread to other countries in the region—
what we know as the “Arab Spring.” One country was Egypt, where arti-
ficially low prices had made bread an important part of their diet. When
grain prices spiked in 007 – 008 , and bread prices rose by 7 percent,
the Egyptian government, the world’s largest importer of wheat, did
nothing. Its nonresponse amplified levels of hunger and helped catalyze
revolt. Mass protests and the overthrow of the government followed.
When food is scarce, a cycle of unrest, protests, and instability fol-
lows. The use of lethal force to suppress a country’s citizens—or even all-
out civil war—is not uncommon. Such a cycle resulting from a scarcity of
food is well recognized, but an overabundance of food has its own cycle,
though it plays out on a longer time frame. America is in the midst of
this cycle. We can see it happening already in the exploitation of finite
resources, the disappearance of prime farmland and fossil water, the loss
of governance and social norms, the erosion of public support to sustain
sound science, and the unquestioned faith we put in markets.
The power of food is also evident at the individual level. I first saw
it on display in my own backyard, over years of feeding cattle. Except
for their first few weeks following their birth, I was present their entire
lives. While some were docile, others were precocious, ready to break
away at any opportunity. Each brought to the herd their own vibe,
which together created a unique group identity. Yet despite differences
in individual behavior, each morning and evening they all awaited food.
So twice each day, I trekked out to the barn. As they watched me
walk up the lane, many stuck their heads through the feeding stalls in
anticipation. A few signaled their impatience by bellowing. As I broke
open fresh bales of hay and shoveled out much-desired fermented silage
and milled grain, they settled in. As long as they had plenty to eat, they
were under my control. Snow, cold, rain, or heat had no bearing.
As the months rolled by, they put on weight and filled out. When
my father told me the date when the livestock truck would come, they
were oblivious to what lay ahead. In their world, everything was as it
should be. As the day drew near, I obliged them with as much food as