Jayson Lusk: The food police: a well-fed manifesto about the politics of your plate

In The Food Police, Lusk argues that there is an increasing trend by ‘‘a chorus of authors, talk show hosts, politician, and celebrity chefs’’ (p. 2) to regulate, restrict and otherwise control the foods that we produce and consume. He calls these people the ‘‘food police’’ and the ‘‘high priests of politically correct food.’’ They are a self-appointed elite who think they know what foods people should and should not eat. Some of their targets, according to Lusk: banning trans fats and foie gras, outlawing Happy Meals, taxing Twinkies and subsidizing fruit and vegetables, mandating that schools purchase a certain percentage of local food. The book consists of 10 chapters. In the first chapter, ‘‘A Skeptical Foodie,’’ Lusk states that he does not have an agenda to change what food people eat. He also does not want to promote the status quo. As an economist, he is ‘‘generally agnostic about people’s preferences’’ (p. 15). Rather, his aim is to tell the ‘‘truth about food, and economics,’’ which he argues is badly distorted in the popular, public, and academic spheres. Lusk’s contribution to the debate is his unabashed advocacy of economics and freedom of choice. He uses economic logic and empirical studies to debunk myths and misconceptions about the production and consumption of food and to argue that efforts to interfere with food and agricultural markets by directly controlling or regulating how they operate will produce unintended, harmful consequences. Simply put, as problematic as the current food system is, it works in producing a lot of food that is accessible to the poor. ‘‘I don’t care,’’ he says, ‘‘if you refrain from eating foods made with biotechnology or growth promotants or preservative. But don’t tell me it is immoral to allow farmers to sell consumers these cheaper alternative’’ (pp. 37–38). Other chapters are those that one might expect in a book critical of efforts to promote an alternative food system over conventionally produced food. For example, both Lusk and McWilliams’ (2009) book, Just Food, contain chapters with similar arguments about local food movements, organic agriculture, agricultural subsidies and biotechnology (in fact, both of their chapters have the word ‘‘franken’’ in the title, as in ‘‘frankenfood’’). Other chapters in The Food Police detail the evolution and history of food progressivism, present an argument that efforts to regulate food are ‘‘slowly leading us down the road to serfdom’’ (p. 35), critique behavioral economics when used as a basis for policies designed to change what people eat, argue against any form of tax on food or food commodities, and outline Lusk’s vision of the ‘‘future of food.’’ There are some problems with the book. Most significant is the tone Lusk frequently uses when describing critics of conventional agriculture. He can be quite condescending. My favorite example is his ‘‘recipe’’ for the homemade crises that he claims such critics have created. Ingredients include ‘‘1 cup feigning compassion,’’ ‘‘1 28-oz can paternalism in moralizing syrup,’’ and ‘‘1 tablespoon inequality aversion harvested from a Wall Street Occupier.’’ Lusk also is a frequent user of a strawman argument (which is portraying an easy-to refute, over-stylized, and misrepresented version of an opponent’s argument). For example, Lusk claims that critics of conventional agriculture advocate an idealized world where ‘‘we’d all eat in fine restaurants’’ (p. 28). Another example is when he says a critic of Monsanto’s actions to sue farmers caught violating the company’s technology patents should not be willing to H. S. James Jr. (&) Department of Agricultural and Applied Economics, University of Missouri, 146 Mumford Hall, Columbia, MO 65211, USA e-mail: hjames@missouri.edu