(Mises)—Most students in America are introduced to the writings of Upton Sinclair. While they aren’t shown his incredible cover-up of the Holodomor or his other Soviet apologisms, they are presented with his most famous work: The Jungle. This work tells the tale of Sinclair’s investigation into the wretched working conditions of the meat-packers of its age. Between lost limbs and failed inspections, Sinclair writes about the meat being contaminated and barbarously prepared.
This tale is meant to show the supposed failures of laissez-faire capitalism, with its disregard for workers and health. Readers are supposed to walk away with a firm belief in the need for the regulation of these firms. Hurrah! Here comes the mighty state to provide safety to the masses that would otherwise be made sick by crony corporations. That’s far from the truth.
Murray Rothbard himself documents in The Progressive Era the truth of the United States Department of Agriculture (USDA) regulation. Rothbard observed that nearly every inspection passed in any form of legislature or bureaucracy was fueled by protectionism from existing firms. These regulations were not there to provide “safety” to consumers but rather to keep competition out of the marketplace by fiat. Rothbard states that the only meaningful definition of monopoly is an exclusive legal right granted by the state. Perhaps then, the only meaningful definition of so-called monopoly powers is a firm’s ability to push regulation that harms their competition through the state.
Even today, the USDA—and its regulations—threaten to crush small farmers under its heel. A small hobby farm, or even one that simply isn’t a factory farm, can hardly stand up to the regulations.
Meat processing in the United States must be done under the supervision of a USDA inspector if the goal is to sell the animal product to another person. A farmer cannot simply butcher his or her own animal, cut it into the usual meat products, and sell it at a farm stand. That would violate USDA regulations. Regardless of the ability of farmers to inspect and keep their own animals healthy or of their own skill in butchering livestock, they must have a USDA inspector to sell the product on the market.
This inspector is not provided, though, free of charge by the USDA through taxpayer dollars. Rather, the individual meat processor must pay out of pocket for these services. As far as meat processing goes, the USDA charges anywhere from $86 to $238 an hour for inspections. This does not guarantee the quality of the meat; it simply gives a rubber stamp to large processors that can afford to pay the processors.
Bigger is not necessarily better, as one can apply basic logic to the inspection process. Those moving larger volumes of meat are able to afford to pay an inspector hourly. By throwing large volumes of the goods over and over in a constant stream at their workers and the inspectors, mistakes can be made. This method of “inspection” incentivizes for large volumes rather than quality. It’s rare to come across a small farm causing health issues, but it has become increasingly common to come across recalls from large processors like Perdue and Lakeside Refrigerated. These large outlets can certainly afford to pay for an inspector, but that doesn’t guarantee quality.
The solution is, rather than increase the scale of operations, America must decentralize its meat packing and processing. This means opposing bureaucracy that forces family operations to pay for a bureaucrat who guarantees neither safety nor quality.
In a free market, quality and safety can be ensured by a variety of means. An organization like the USDA might arise, but it would be held accountable by profits and losses. Individual processing firms may pay the free-market USDA to verify the health of their product. However, if the free-market USDA fails to stop an illness from arising, through their own inspection failures, they may lose their credibility with both consumers and the producers that pay them. Profit and loss provide greater incentives for success than a bureaucracy that theoretically cannot “go under.”
Even better is the decentralization of the food processing industry altogether. Greater accountability can be held to more local institutions, such as farmers currently barred from processing their own food. Word of mouth spreads quickly among neighbors. Any exchange that a consumer is comfortable making, they should be allowed to, knowing full well the risks. Why should a government get between a farmer and their customer buying meat from them?
This is the entire basis for Thomas Massie’s Processing Revival and Intrastate Meat Exemption Act, or PRIME Act, which would circumvent the USDA’s jurisdiction for exchanges at a community level. The act would exempt custom slaughterhouses from USDA inspector requirements if the exchange occurs within state borders and follows any state-specific laws. It would be an important step toward decentralizing the food system.
If conservatives and libertarians care about competition for small farms, they should support defanging the federal bureaucracy used by large corporations to capture markets. The USDA should have its regulatory powers removed, and the ability to provide safety in food should be returned to the market. Markets provide a far more welcoming place for producers and a far safer result for consumers.
About the Author
David Brady is a Catholic libertarian and economics and finance undergraduate student at Florida Southern College. He is a co-host of the “Econphonics” podcast and a Mises Apprentice.
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Two Storms, One Harvest
Every food crisis in living memory has been a one-shock event. The 2008 price spike was a commodity bubble. The 2020 shortages were a logistics failure. The 2022 grain scare was a war on one exporter’s ports. Each time, the system bent, adjusted, and recovered, and each time the experts assured us afterward that global markets are simply too big and too diversified to fail.
What nobody in Washington seems eager to discuss is that 2026 is shaping up to be something the modern food system has never actually faced. Two independent shocks, one climatic and one geopolitical, are converging on the same harvest cycle at the same time. Not sequentially. Simultaneously.
Start with the weather. The Pacific Ocean is currently building toward what forecasters now openly call a record event. NOAA’s Climate Prediction Center puts the odds of at least a strong El Niño near 88 percent, with roughly two in three odds it reaches “very strong” status, the tier reserved for perhaps three or four events in the entire satellite era. Every major global model now projects a median peak in Super El Niño territory, and most of them project it exceeding the 2015-16 event, which until now held the modern record. Sea surface anomalies were already brushing the super threshold in mid-July, months before these events normally peak. The atmosphere has already shifted into El Niño mode, and the event is forecast to crest in late fall and early winter.
This is not about “climate change.” It’s about the standard cycles of weather, and the cycle we’re currently in is one that has likely devastated societies in the past. We’re better prepared as a society today, but not all Americans are equally prepared.
Serious households have started doing the quiet math on their own. Grocery bills tell part of the story, and the forecast maps tell the rest, which is why long-term food storage has moved from fringe hobby to mainstream line item in the family budget, with established suppliers like Heaven’s Harvest seeing demand from people who five years ago would have rolled their eyes at the idea. That instinct is not paranoia. It is pattern recognition, and the pattern is worth walking through carefully.
Editor’s Note: Heaven’s Harvest IS a sponsor, but the warnings of this article are real and would be written even if we didn’t have a survival food sponsor. With that said, those who take advantage of what they offer can use promo code “Patriot” for 15% off.
The Fertilizer Clock Is Already Running
While the Pacific warms, the second shock has been unfolding in the Strait of Hormuz. The conflict with Iran turned the world’s most important energy chokepoint into a contested waterway, and the consequences reach far beyond the gas pump. Roughly a third of global fertilizer trade moves through Hormuz, and the disruption sent urea prices up 86 percent year over year by March, with a 53 percent jump in a single month.
The World Bank projects energy prices rising about 24 percent in 2026 and fertilizer about 31 percent. By its own accounting, fertilizer prices ran 35 percent higher in the first five months of this year than the same period last year.
Here is the mechanism the nightly news will not explain. Fertilizer is not a grocery item. It is a time-delayed input. The nitrogen a farmer in Iowa or Punjab could not afford to apply this spring does not show up as a problem this spring. It shows up as a thinner harvest six to twelve months later.
The World Bank’s own food security brief concedes that the effects of reduced applications earlier this season “are likely to become visible only later in harvest outcomes.” Translate that from institutional language into plain English and it means this. The damage is already done, it is already in the ground, and we are simply waiting for it to arrive on the shelf.
Now check the calendar. Six to twelve months from the spring planting season lands us squarely in late 2026 and early 2027. Which is precisely when the strongest El Niño in the instrumental record is forecast to peak, bringing its signature droughts to Southeast Asia, Australia, southern Africa, northern Brazil, and South Asia, the very regions that grow the world’s rice, sugar, and oilseeds.
The World Bank warns openly that a strong El Niño “could disrupt multiple crop belts simultaneously” on top of the conflict-driven input costs. Their baseline projection assumes the Middle East disruptions ease by autumn. What in the last two years of Middle East history suggests that assumption is safe?
The System Has No Slack Left
The comfortable answer is that global markets always adjust. But adjustment requires slack, and the slack is gone. Global cereal production is expected to decline from last year’s records even before El Niño does its work. The UN World Food Programme, hardly a den of right-wing preppers, is calling this the most significant disruption to its supply chains since Covid and the invasion of Ukraine, and its supply chain director put the stakes bluntly.
Today’s supply chain challenges are tomorrow’s hunger crisis.
There is also a political dimension that markets cannot price. When food gets scarce, governments do not behave like economists. They behave like politicians. Export bans, hoarding mandates, and panic buying at the national level turned the modest rice shortfall of 2008 into a global crisis, and analysts are already warning that import-dependent nations are the first dominoes.
The 2015-16 Super El Niño, a far weaker event than what is now forecast, threw tens of millions into food stress across Africa and Asia. This one is projected to be stronger, and it arrives with fertilizer already rationed by price and shipping lanes already contested by missiles.
What Joseph Knew
Scripture does not treat preparation for lean years as faithlessness. It treats it as wisdom delivered in advance to those willing to act on it.
Behold, there come seven years of great plenty throughout all the land of Egypt: And there shall arise after them seven years of famine; and all the plenty shall be forgotten in the land of Egypt.
Joseph did not respond to that warning with a hashtag or a committee. He stored grain during the years of abundance, and when the famine came, Egypt stood while its neighbors begged. The lesson is not that famine is certain. It is that the time to prepare is precisely when preparation still looks optional.
Nobody who filled a pantry in a year of plenty has ever regretted it, and nobody standing in an empty aisle has ever been glad he waited for certainty.
None of this calls for panic, and panic is the enemy of sound judgment anyway. It calls for the same unglamorous prudence our grandparents considered ordinary. Keep some cash margin, know your local growers, and put real food in deep storage while it is cheap and available, because the entire arc of this story is that cheap and available is a closing window.
Families looking for a straightforward place to start can visit Heaven’s Harvest and use promo code Patriot for 15 percent off long-term storable food. The forecasts may yet soften, the strait may yet reopen, and we should pray they do. But hope is a fine thing to hold and a foolish thing to eat.
