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Let’s do the math on congressional votes this week and AIPAC’s return on investment with Democratic lawmakers.
The American-Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) and its allies have long been considered one of the strongest lobbies in Washington, exercising outsized influence, especially on US policies toward Israel and the Middle East. Recently, its purported muscle has come under question, and votes in Congress the last two days show why, or at least that there is a stark partisan divide.
For all the hundreds of millions of dollars AIPAC and its allies have given to Democrats, they got exactly 14 votes from Democrats in the House of Representatives and Senate over the last two days on four key votes regarding the war on Iran and US weapons transfers to Israel, which computes to a paltry bang for the buck.
The votes were on Iran War Powers Resolutions in both Houses of Congress to oppose the Trump Administration’s deeply unpopular, reckless participation in the war on Iran, and on two resolutions to stop US Caterpillar bulldozers, used to demolish Palestinian homes, and 12,000 half-ton bombs, used by Israel against Palestinians, Iranians and Lebanese. All these votes (three in the Senate, one in the House) failed along closely divided, nearly total partisan lines, so one might consider the votes a win for AIPAC, Netanyahu, and President Trump.
But let’s do the math on these votes and AIPAC’s return on investment with Democratic Members of Congress. AIPAC had a possible total of 355 Congressional votes cast it could have gotten—47 Senate Democrats, times the three Senate votes, for a total of 141 possible votes, on War Powers, bulldozers and bombs, and 214 Democrats in the House on the Iran War Powers Resolution vote, for a grand total of 355 possible Democratic votes. It got 14 votes, for a batting average of 0.039, or just under 4% of possible votes if you prefer. Here are the Democratic members who voted AIPAC’s way, to allow Trump to continue the war, and to ship weapons to Israel:
Senate War Powers Resolution—one vote, Sen. John Fetterman (PA)
House War Powers Resolution—one vote, Rep. Jared Golden (ME)
Senate Joint Resolutions of Disapproval—12 votes (seven on bulldozers, four on bombs)—Sens. Chuck Schumer (NY), Kirsten Gillibrand (NY), Chris Coons (DE), Richard Blumenthal (CT), Fetterman again (twice), Katherine Cortez Masto (NV), Jacky Rosen (NV), Gary Peters (MI), Jack Reed (RI), Mark Warner (VA), Sheldon Whitehouse (RI).
That’s it, 14 votes, cast by eleven senators (with Fetterman three times) and one member of the House. Schumer, in particular, once again showed how out of touch he is as Minority Leader, prompting this video from US Rep. Ro Khanna, a leader of pro-peace forces in Congress, calling on Schumer to step down.
For Americans seeking a more peaceful foreign policy, and to avoid domestic and global economic shocks caused by senseless wars, AIPAC and the “pro-Israel lobby” becoming more or less isolated in one party would be a welcome development.
The poster child for AIPAC’s lousy votes per dollar spent, and he is easy to pick on, is US Rep. Wesley Bell (D-MO). AIPAC and co. bought him his seat (according to the websiteTrack AIPAC, for about $17 million) to oust Cori Bush because she dared to author the House Gaza ceasefire resolution. Yet Bell voted right the correct way on the War Powers Resolution. AIPAC must be very disappointed in him. And, it should be noted, Cori Bush may well get her seat back from Bell in the upcoming midterm election.
None of this is to say AIPAC and the pro-Israel lobby should be considered a toothless paper tiger. Its grip on the Republican Party, which voted almost entirely to continue the war and keep sending weapons to Israel, is vice-like. Only two Republicans, US Rep Thomas Massie and Senator Rand Paul, both from Kentucky, voted in favor of the Iran War Powers Resolutions, and no Republican senator, including Paul, voted to stop the bombs and bulldozers to Israel.
According to Federal Election Commission records, AIPAC and its Super PAC, the United Democracy Project, spent nearly $127 million in the 2023-2024 election cycle, a good chunk of it in Democratic primaries to oust progressives critical of Israel’s genocide in Gaza (former Rep. Jamaal Bowman’s primary in New York was another high profile race, in addition to Cori Bush’s, with AIPAC spending $9 million to defeat Bowman).
Looking ahead to 2028, all of the Democratic Senators who are allegedly thinking of running for president (Cory Booker, Ruben Gallego, Mark Kelly, Chris Murphy and Chris Van Hollen) voted for the Iran War Powers Resolution and the resolutions to prohibit the weapons transfers to Israel. Booker, Gallego, and Kelly had voted against prior Joint Resolutions of Disapproval on weapons transfers to Israel brought forward by Sanders, so it certainly could be asserted they want to get right with the Democratic voter base. And they should. Exit polls showed a key reason Kamala Harris lost in battleground states in 2024 was her refusal to break from former President Biden’s embrace of Israel, either as Vice President or as the Democratic standard bearer.
Unquestioned support for Israel used to be axiomatic in Washington, but it no longer is. AIPAC and its allies may soon find themselves limited to the work of swaying Republicans, as polls indicate even core conservative demographics shifting away from their unwavering support for Israel by double digits. And nobody should expect AIPAC to taper their financial interference over Democrats either. A recent brag video asserts AIPAC is the top donor to African American, Latino and Asian American Members of Congress, mostly Democrats.
For Americans seeking a more peaceful foreign policy, and to avoid domestic and global economic shocks caused by senseless wars, AIPAC and the “pro-Israel lobby” becoming more or less isolated in one party would be a welcome development. The upcoming mid-term elections should tell us a lot about who has more power, AIPAC or the American voters.
Everywhere, everywhere, everywhere is war.
War against Iran. Kidnapping the president of Venezuela. Threatening to take over Cuba and Greenland. Plans to plunder the planet of its land, labor, and vital resources to feed the insatiable appetite of American capitalism are indeed afoot and, in the age of Donald Trump, U.S. imperialism is back with a particular vengeance. Not, of course, that it ever went away. In fact, it’s been there from the beginning.
After all, the United States was launched as an act of settler colonialism, dispossessing the New World’s indigenous inhabitants. President James Monroe issued what became known as the “Monroe Doctrine” in 1823, proclaiming the country’s exclusive right to determine the fate of the rest of the western hemisphere. Meanwhile, the slave trade and slavery constituted an imperial rape of Africa by America’s planter and merchant elites.
And by the turn of the twentieth century, Washington had announced its “Open Door” policy, meaning it intended to compete for access to the world’s markets while joining the European race for colonies. It proceeded to do so by brutally taking over the Philippines in 1899, while the U.S. armed forces would make regular incursions into countries in Central America to protect the holdings of American corporations and banks. And the story that began there has never ended with bloody chapters written in Guatemala, Vietnam, most recently Iran, and all too many other places.
As the dispossession of indigenous populations and the enslavement of Africans suggest, the “homeland” (itself an imperial locution) has long been deeply implicated in the imperial project. Indeed, various forms of repressive military and police measures used abroad were first tested out against labor, Black, immigrant, and native insurgents. Rebellious immigrant workers in the nineteenth century were compared to “Indian savages” as local police and federal militia treated them with equal savagery. White supremacist ideology, nurtured at home, would then be exported to the global south to justify U.S. domination there. In fact, this country’s vaunted economic prosperity for so much of the last century was premised on its exploitative access to the resources of the global south, as well as its post-World War II hegemony over Western Europe.
Donald Trump turns out to be a purveyor of both imperialism (notwithstanding his promises to “stop wars” and refrain from “forever wars”) and its toxic outcome.
Today, Donald Trump’s government exercises a reign of terror over our immigrant brothers and sisters, millions of whom are here because their homelands were economically despoiled by this country’s business and financial powerhouses. Homegrown resistance to our imperial adventures abroad has always been met by government repression, the stripping away of democratic rights, and the creation of a surveillance state.
In the Beginning
The United States was always conceived as an imperial project, its DNA infected from the outset.
The earliest settlers were simultaneously colonial subjects of the British and other European empires, and themselves colonizers exercising their dominion over indigenous populations. Native Americans — agrarian communities, hunting and trading tribes, seafaring and fishing societies — were systematically stripped of their lands, resources, and ways of life (not to speak of their actual lives) by the newly arrived settler colonials.
Sometimes their undoing was left to the silent workings of the marketplace. From the sixteenth through the eighteenth centuries, the fur trade catered to the appetites of the world’s aristocracy — in Russia, China, and across Europe. Native American fur-trapping and trading societies entered into commercial relations with fur merchants like John Jacob Astor, the country’s first millionaire. But the terms of trade were always profoundly unequal and eventually undermined the viability of those fur-trapping communities.
Often enough, however, the colonizers resorted to far less “pacific” kinds of actions: military force, legal legerdemain, illegal land seizures, and even bio-warfare, as European-borne diseases nearly wiped out whole indigenous populations. The social murder of those peoples went on through the nineteenth century, from “the Trail of Tears” (the forced removal of the “five civilized tribes” from Georgia in 1830 on the orders of President Andrew Jackson) to the massacre of the Lakota Sioux at Wounded Knee in 1890.
Imagine the United States minus that historic erasure.
There’s no way, since the very geographic borders we take for granted would be utterly different. Much of this country’s most fertile land, crucial water resources, mineral-rich deposits, as well as the industries that grew up around them using buffalo hides for conveyer belts and horses to pull street-cars (not to speak of the oil wells that made certain Americans so rich drilling in territory that once had been part of the Comanche empire) would have remained outside the “homeland.” Where would America the Great have been then?
Less tangibly, but perhaps more essentially, without that emotional elixir, the sense of racial superiority that still poisons our collective bloodstream and helps justify our imperial brutality abroad, that sense of being perpetually at war with savages — President Trump only recently called Iran’s leaders “deranged scumbags,”— who knows what this country might have been.
Slavery and Manifest Destiny
Of course, slave labor disfigured the homeland for centuries, thanks initially to the transatlantic slave trade conducted by the imperial powers of Europe and eventually the United States. Shipowners, merchants, bankers, slave brokers, and planters, backed by the authority of the Constitution, grew extraordinarily wealthy by kidnapping and plundering African peoples.
Wealth accumulated in the slave trade or thanks to slavery found its way into industrial development, especially of the textile industries that powered the earliest stages of this country’s industrial revolution. We may fancy the notion that such a revolution was homegrown, a manifestation of a kind of native inventiveness, but factoring in the imperial assault on Africa makes the homeland’s vaunted industrial miracle seem less miraculous.
Territorial acquisition is often a hallmark of the imperial quest. And so it was in the case of this country’s expansion into the southwest and west, sometimes by purchasing land, but all too often by war. In fact, the seizure of a vast region that today stretches from Texas to California — sometimes referred to as the Mexican-American War (1846-1848) — was actually an invasion driven by the appetites of the slave owners of the American South for fresh lands to cultivate. Indeed, the most avaricious leaders of the Southern planter class wanted to take parts of Central America to extend the reach of the slave economy, as one imperial adventure whetted the appetite for another.
The phrase “Manifest Destiny,” the rubric deployed by American politicians to explain away their predatory behavior as something fated to be, remains part of an inbred American hubris. We, of course, make war and destroy only for the most idealistic motives: to save democracy, uplift the poor, hunt down demonic rulers, or bring the blessings of the American way of life to the benighted.
Exacerbated as well through the experience of conquest was a racialized ideology already deeply embedded in the country’s psyche. If, today, Donald Trump’s America is infected with an aversion to Latinos (not to mention African Americans), or immigrants of any non-White kind, look to the American imperial experience for its source. Earlier exercises in racism, including lynchings and church burnings in the Jim Crow South, became dress rehearsals for assaults on Muslims in our own moment of Trumpian paranoia.
Imperialism Without Colonies
Looked at from this vantage point, the American story turns out to be a serial exercise in imperial ambition. And yet, compared to its European competitors, the United States had precious few actual colonies.
True, after the Spanish-American War of 1898, it did run Cuba for a time, while establishing an unofficial protectorate over the Philippines (after waging a horrific counterinsurgency war there against a guerrilla independence movement). During that conflict U.S. forces mastered techniques — the establishment of concentration camps, for example — that they would deploy later against similar anti-colonial movements, particularly in Vietnam in the twentieth century.
Of course, the U.S. military also occupied various Central American nations — the Dominican Republic, Haiti, and Nicaragua, among other places — during the opening decades of the twentieth century, taking control of their government finances and so ensuring that they paid debts owed to American banks. That was the original version of what came to be known as “gunboat diplomacy” and is now being revisited. (Think of the recent capture of Venezuelan president Nicolás Maduro and his wife by the Trump administration.)
At the beginning of the previous century, Secretary of State John Hay developed a different approach to establishing American imperial hegemony, something less haphazard than those semi-colonial one-offs. In 1899, he announced an “Open Door” policy which, on the face of it, seemed eminently fair. The United States claimed that it sought equal access to markets, particularly China’s, that had previously been carved into exclusive zones by the great European powers.
Opening that door eventually led to American global economic dominance, not counting the part of the world controlled for about 75 years by the Soviet Union (in parts of which China is now dominant). U.S. economic preeminence after World War II, backstopped by the world’s most powerful military machine, proved irresistible, while functionally Europe became something like an American colonial possession under the auspices of the Marshall Plan and NATO. That door, in other words, was opened wider than Hays had ever imagined.
Mind you, his imperial perspective was trained not only on the outside world but on the homeland as well. By the turn of the twentieth century, this country’s business and political elites were worried that the domestic market for America’s huge industrial and agricultural output was fast approaching exhaustion. Periodic and severe depressions in the last quarter of the nineteenth century seemed like evidence of that.
What was needed, key Washington strategists came to believe, was an “open door” for U.S. commodities and capital investment globally. Such a policy would, they believed, not only ensure American prosperity but also dampen the chronic class warfare between the haves and have-nots that had raged in this country throughout the Gilded Age, threatening the viability of American capitalism.
From the close of the Civil War to the end of the nineteenth century, many people believed that the United States had entered a “second civil war,” as the titans of industry (sometimes backed by the country’s armed forces) faced off against the mass strikes of working people and farmers trying to survive the ravages of a capitalist economy. Ever since then, this country would have been inconceivable without its various versions of “open door” imperialism to buoy up the home front and pacify the natives — that is, us.
Acting the role of the hegemon, while lucrative, is also expensive. Public money still pours into sustaining and enlarging the warfare state to ward off all challenges to American supremacy. (The Pentagon only recently, for instance, asked for another $200 billion for its war in Iran.) It does so at the expense of social welfare programs, while starving investment in productive activities like the development of alternative forms of energy and new infrastructure, housing, and rapid transit that would improve life for everyone.
At times, as in the case of the Vietnam War, the warfare state has engendered full-blown domestic economic crises. Vietnam led to punishing years of hyper-inflation followed by years of economic stagnation. Moreover, such war expenditures nearly collapsed the world’s financial system in 1968.
Today, we may be beginning to experience something similar as the global economy teeters on the edge of collapse thanks to Trump’s war on Iran.
Democracy and Imperialism
From the beginning, however, there was resistance to the homeland’s imperialism. Native peoples waged war. Slaves revolted. Mexicans became anti-imperialists. Abolitionists took on the slavocracy. The Spanish-American War elicited opposition from middle-class folk and public figures like Mark Twain. During World War I, thousands of anti-war radicals had their organizations raided and their newspapers shut down by government decree, while some were imprisoned and some deported. Similarly, government repression sought to quell the anti-Vietnam War movement of the 1960s, culminating in the killing of four Kent State students in 1970.
Democracy and civil liberties, thought to make up the essence of the homeland’s civic religion, can’t survive the imperial drive. Today, violations of the most basic rights to free speech, privacy, a fair trial, and the right to vote are appalling and commonplace. Immigrants, often here because they couldn’t survive the ravages of American capitalism in their homelands, are treated like outlaws. The most basic constitutional requirement — the exclusive right of Congress to declare war — is ignored with impunity (and had been long before Trump took over). The imperial state, the surveillance state, and the authoritarian state are hollowing out what’s left of the democratic state.
Imperialism does massive and fatal damage abroad. The wars in Gaza and Iran are the latest bloodbaths for all to see. Less visible are the wages of imperialism at home. An equation might clarify the historical record: The Imperium = land, labor, resources, power, and wealth. The Homeland = cultural brutalization, dispossession, fear, misogyny, racism, repression, slavery, tyranny, and war.
Donald Trump turns out to be a purveyor of both imperialism (notwithstanding his promises to “stop wars” and refrain from “forever wars”) and its toxic outcome. Conjoined in his person is the perfect amalgam of America’s imperial history of aggressive aggrandizement and the ubermensch cruelty that history has instilled in the American psyche.
Maybe we’ll survive the Trump presidency. But maybe we won’t. We must—all of us—be better than the example this man has set.
“A whole civilization will die tonight, never to be brought back again.”
Let’s listen again to these viral words, as they hover over the planet . . . as they hover over, good God, the future. Finally, finally, the time has come for every last one of us to release the question these words force on us, from the privacy, from the cynicism, of our hearts, and collectively scream it until it begins to orbit Planet Earth: How do we transcend war?
The words, of course, are those of Donald Trump, U.S. president and perhaps the most powerful and troubled human being on the planet, whose finger has access to the “nuclear button.” The words are part of several social media posts he let loose last week, as his pointless war on Iran continued spiraling out of control. Iran was fighting back. It closed the Strait of Hormuz, creating financial chaos around the world.
This was his post on Easter Sunday (April 5): “Tuesday will be Power Plant Day, and Bridge Day, all wrapped up in one, in Iran. There will be nothing like it!!! Open the fucking strait, you crazy bastards, or you’ll be living in Hell — JUST WATCH! Praise be to Allah.”
Yes, I know, almost everyone has read these posts, mostly in shock and outrage, but I plunk them into this column in order to keep them connected to the enormous question they open. On Monday he wrote:
“Their infrastructure could be taken out in one night. I’m telling you, no bridges, no power plants. I’m considering blowing everything up and taking over the oil.”
And on Tuesday he announced that Iran’s entire civilization would die that night. This sounded, of course, like a lunatic threat to nuke the country, possibly triggering God-knows-what. Maybe nuclear retaliation – from China? Who knows? And no, he didn’t carry out that threat last week. Iran still exists, the war goes on, the Strait of Hormuz is now double-blockaded. But Trump shared with the world the utter lunacy that possesses him. And he still has the power to launch a nuclear war.
Maybe this won’t happen. Maybe this war will end. Maybe we’ll survive the Trump presidency. But maybe we won’t! Trump has made the treacherous insanity of the global political structure as clear as it has ever been. Mutually Assured Destruction (a.k.a., MADness)– as long as you don’t nuke me, I won’t nuke you – is absolutely flawed. Nuclear weapons won’t go away. And humanity’s future is not secure, certainly not as long as waging war and dominating (killing) “the enemy” remains at the core of global politics.
But Trump is the most obvious threat of the moment, and recently, four psychiatric experts along with public policy analyst Jeffrey Sachs sent a letter to the leaders of Congress (both Republican and Democrat) warning them that the president has crossed a psychological threshold and is exhibiting in his behavior what is called “the Dark Triad” of personality traits: Machiavellianism (lack of empathy), narcissism (self-absorption) and psychopathy (anti-social behavior). The letter urges Congress to reclaim its constitutional authority over the waging of war and look into the evocation of the 25th Amendment, which could remove the president from office.
But even if this actually happens, it only addresses part of the planet’s nuclear endangerment. As Jonathan Grannoff and Steven Hendrix wrote recently at Foreign Policy in Focus:
“Whether or not the ceasefire with Iran holds, and whether or not Iran keeps its uranium stockpile and enrichment program, one thing is clear: nuclear dangers are growing.”
For instance, they note: “The war in Iran has made nuclear proliferation more likely, not less. Clearly, if Iran had nuclear weapons, it would not have been attacked. That’s a powerful object lesson for other countries in why they might want to pursue nuclear weapons themselves.”
And who knows how many countries, especially Third World countries, may suddenly start considering the value of having a nuclear arsenal? When you actually possess some nukes, the big countries will leave you alone. The Iran war has almost certainly opened up this awareness, adding further irony to its alleged goal of keeping us safe.
“This is beyond farcical and dangerously misguided,” Grannoff and Hendrix write. “It is strategic amnesia at best, sleepwalking into Armageddon at worst. . . .
“The problem is not just who possesses them; it’s the inherent complexity and fragility of nuclear systems themselves. The greatest danger may not be irrational leaders or unstable regimes, but compressed decision timelines, imperfect information, technological vulnerabilities, and the ever-present risk of human error in all nuclear systems.”
And nuclear weapons, as I say, are not going away. Even if they did, humanity is still capable of inflicting endless harm on its enemies and, indeed, on people who are simply in the way. So what has to go away – what we have to evolve beyond – is war itself. By no means am I saying this simplistically. Conflict, disagreement, rage, hatred will always be with us, but they can be addressed, indeed, healed – certainly at the personal level. Conflict resolution is a learning process for all sides. It’s definitely a creative process.
When we go to war, people’s deaths become abstractions. This is what allows war to remain embedded in global politics, with, of course, the help of the mainstream media. And thus we remain locked in the inevitability of war. Trump, in his psychopathic honesty, is shattering that inevitability; even America’s military is backing away from him.
Perhaps the “peace president” has created a starting point . . . for transcending war.
The impact on fuel prices due to the closure of the Strait of Hormuz is the canary in the agrifood coal mine.
What does Big Ag have to do with the Strait of Hormuz? A lot, actually, when you consider that almost every so-called efficiency that industrial agriculture relies on to operate flows through this waterway. And now it is closed, threatening global food security.
And what is the primary source of the problem? Our reliance on fossil fuels.
What do fertilizers, pesticides, and plastics have in common?
First of all, each is a leg of the stool that makes up the rickety foundation of our global agrifood system.
Plastics are involved in every stage of our food and farming systems from soil to spoon: plastic polymers are used in some mulches, agrichemical containers are generally made of plastics, harvest crates and produce packages are often plastic, most processed foods are packaged in plastic or plastic-lined containers, and single-use plastics are still widely used in plates, bowls, cups, straws, napkins, and utensils.
In the 1960s, the world used between 60 and 70 million tonnes of fertilizer (synthetic nitrogen, potassium and phosphorus, plus organic nitrogen) per year. But that usage has steadily risen ever since: in 2023 we used nearly 183 million tonnes of fertilizer. This rise can be attributed in part to the rising needs of a growing global population, but it is more indicative of our over-reliance on fertilizers as a way to combat the increasing effects of climate change. This season, farmers are already reporting untenable increases in fertilizer prices.
Big Ag has and will continue to rely on Big Oil to make Big Money as long as they can, but the United States’ and Israel’s unconstitutional war on Iran starkly illustrates just how fragile this house of cards is.
Pesticides are the other side of the agrichemical input coin. Fertilizers and pesticides go hand-in-hand, when it comes to global agrifood systems. The foundation of industrialized farming is monocropping (growing a single crop over and over on the same piece of land). The problem with monocropping is that it is extremely input intensive because monocropped land is more vulnerable to pest and disease pressure. And over time, this vulnerability increases, requiring more and more pesticides as tolerance builds. This creates a vicious cycle called the Pesticide Treadmill that is hard for farmers to escape without support.
But, critically, synthetic plastics, fertilizers, and pesticides are all derivatives of fossil fuels, mass quantities of which must be funneled through one waterway before becoming various inputs and components of our centralized, industrialized agrifood system. Rather than curbing our use of climate-harming fossil fuel-derived plastics, synthetic fertilizers, and pesticides, our agrifood systems use more and more each year, exacerbating the problem and further locking us into a fragile food system.
According to the Congressional Research Service, over a quarter of the world’s supply of oil comes through the Strait of Hormuz, impacting farmers’ ability to get seeds in the ground and food to tables. Additionally, 20% of natural gas transits the Strait, which is a component of many agrichemical inputs. But, byproducts of oil and gas production also pass through the Strait, including helium which is used in semiconductor manufacturing (semiconductors like silicon are necessary for all modern technology), and urea, which is one of the most commonly used synthetic fertilizers. Over a third of the world’s urea must pass through the Strait.
In short, global agrifood systems rely intrinsically on fossil fuels and their byproducts to function, and when supply lines are disrupted, even briefly, the domino effects could be catastrophic. This article is not meant to be a metaphor, but an urgent warning and a window to our way out.
The most important—and maddening—thing to know is that our agrifood systems need not rely so heavily on fossil fuels and their byproducts to feed the world’s people.
Big Ag has and will continue to rely on Big Oil to make Big Money as long as they can, but the United States’ and Israel’s unconstitutional war on Iran starkly illustrates just how fragile this house of cards is. As countries around the world issue energy conservation mandates and brace for worsening inflation and supply chain instability, we should consider how agroecological farming practices could not only make our agrifood systems safer by reducing exposures of harmful pesticides and curb climate change, but also make the systems that feed us more resilient by decentralizing them, improving resilience to climate change-induced drought, floods, and pest pressures, and extricating them out from under the thumb of fossil fuel corporations.
Corporate greed has optimized humanity to the brink of mass starvation. But the principles of agroecology center food sovereignty (the opposite of corporate control), labor justice, and land stewardship.
Food systems grounded in agroecology are ones in which:
These principles are not far fetched; they’re economically viable solutions that are being practiced successfully around the world already. Systemic shifts toward global agrifood systems that prioritize the principles of agroecology could help us to solve the triple planetary crises of pollution, biodiversity loss, and climate change.