“We can’t let the Chinese beat us in artificial intelligence”—with this refrain, U.S. policy seems cultishly addicted to an artificial intelligence (AI) race that includes technology, data centers, government grants, and financial investments. Salvation by AI is a promise no red-blooded patriotic American dares question.
AI chest-pounding is akin to military chest-pounding. If the United States is not the unquestioned dominant military player in the world, the nation is weak and sissified. This is the cultural narrative and imperative. Nobody asks why America needs to be No. 1 in AI or have the strongest, mightiest, most expensive military. Questioning the objective categorizes you as un-American. And that would be a terrible thing on our nation’s 250th anniversary.
But before we Americans pound our chests too much about these oft-narrated goals, perhaps we should look at where we’re No. 1 without wanting to be. My point here is that perhaps the supposedly good goals have unintended consequences that make us No. 1 in some bad categories.
For example, the United States is unquestionably the sickest nation on Earth. Through our love affair with technology, we created Lunchables, margarine, Crisco, DDT, genetically modified organisms, glyphosate herbicide, TV dinners, concentrated animal feeding operations, Twinkies, and Cheerios. We figured out how to make corn syrup at scale, separate oils from soybeans using hexane, and transport food an average of 1,500 miles from farm to plate. Amazing.
What’s also amazing is our cancer, autism, obesity, and diabetes rates. Being No. 1 in some things is downright embarrassing. Without getting too far into the weeds, I propose we imagine some different goals.
What if we had a national policy to have the highest consumption rate of nutrient-dense food?
An ancillary goal might be to have the highest domestic culinary participation rate.
Instead of leading the world in convenience food, what if we led the world in culinary arts?
What if more Americans, on average, knew what to do with a butternut squash or how to cut up a chicken than any other nation on Earth?
Can you imagine what would happen if we had as much of a love affair with scratch cooking as we do with scratching the kitchen?
What if Americans became the most food-literate people on the planet?
I’m not talking about reading convenience-food labels; I’m talking about how to make chicken pot pie.
Beyond that, how about basic food production literacy?
I spoke at an elite, college-prep private high school and asked the students: “Name three garden vegetables you can plant while it’s still cold enough to frost.” It stumped them. Then I asked for three that had to be planted after a frost. Stumped again. Then, for fun, I asked, “Name the three Kardashian sisters.” The assembly hall broke out in pandemonium as they yelled out the names. Am I the only one who thinks food literacy is more important than celebrity literacy?
What might be some other noble national No. 1 objectives?
How about the most aggressive soil-building country on Earth? What if instead of joining the rest of the planet in soil degradation, desertification, and dehydration, we were No. 1 at land resource redemption? Wouldn’t it be cool if the world came to America to learn how to build soil, keep toxins out of water, and refill depleted aquifers?
What if we had a goal to lead the world in food freedom? Rather than being one of the most food-regulated nations in the world, we were No. 1 at allowing neighbor-to-neighbor food transactions without government permission? That way, if I raised pastured chickens and made a to-die-for chicken pot pie, I could legally sell it to you if you wanted to buy it. Consenting adults exercising food choice to give their microbiome agency without asking a bureaucrat. How novel would that be?
Such a policy would unleash thousands and thousands of community-scaled food entrepreneurs in their neighborhoods and dismantle the oligarchy that Sen. Bernie Sanders (I-Vt.) rightly decries.
What if every country in the world looked to the United States for guidance on implementing the food freedom template? We would suddenly become the go-to model for launching young farmers and keeping farmland out of the hands of Bill Gates, BlackRock, and Vanguard. Perhaps we would populate the countryside with a new generation that caresses our ecological womb rather than exploits it. That would be a noble objective.
What if, as a result of these changes, our nation became No. 1 in health? Imagine if people all over the world thought of the United States as healthy rather than the developer of McDonald’s and Hot Pockets. That would be a noble trophy to carry to the winners’ circle, don’t you think?
As a nation, we’re committed to short-term goals rather than long-term ones. Does anyone think AI is more important than earthworms? Or clean water? Or functional soil? Perhaps if we devoted ourselves to growing the best gardens and eating the best food, we would be happy and healthy enough to enjoy technology, defense, and production by default rather than by grasping them. Perhaps if we adjusted our goals for No. 1, we'd be less paranoid and more content.
What if we were the most content country in the world? The tech, fight, and industrial ag goals seem to be producing a lot of discontentment. We’re due an adjustment as we approach our nation’s 250th anniversary.
