Even as agricultural land is becoming a covetedinvestment (as manifest in the purchases of billionaires like Stan Kroenke, Bill Gates, and Jeff Bezos, and by institutions like Nuveen and the Canadian Pension Investment Board and by publicly-traded REITs like Farmland Partners and Gladstone Land Corp), there’s another class of investor– with a very different use case– on the hunt. Joy Shin and Ryan Duffy report…
Last year, a datacenter developer started working the phones along Green Hill Road in Silver Spring Township, PA, outside Harrisburg. Mervin Raudabaugh got the call: a mystery buyer wanted to buy his 261 acres of farmland. The developer offered him $60,000 an acre for the land the 86-year-old had farmed for six decades. Mervin turned it down, selling to Lancaster Farmland Trust for <$2M instead, thereby locking the soil into agricultural use. “I was not interested in destroying my farms,” he told a local Fox affiliate.
Two things about this story might have been unthinkable a generation ago: that anyone would offer a farmer nearly $16M for that land, and that it’d be worth more dead (paved over) than alive (producing food).
The Supermarket of the World
For the better part of a century, that’s what America was. From 1959 through 2018, the country ran an agricultural trade surplus every single year, peaking near $27B in 1981, when soybeans, corn, wheat, and rice flowed out of the heartland in volumes that functioned as soft power and hard trade leverage. (When the Soviet harvest failed in 1963, Khrushchev had to buy American wheat through private US grain companies: at market rate, without credit, shipped on American vessels, which was a humiliation leveraged by his enemies to oust him the following year.)
Then, in 2019, the curves crossed. The U.S. has since run a deficit in four of the last six fiscal years. Last year, we imported $43.7B more in agricultural products than we sold.
Washington has started saying the right words. Last month, the USDA and Department of War signed a memorandum designating agriculture as a national security priority. Multiple bills linking food security to national security percolated through the last Congress. If you talk to the right folks in Washington, you’ll hear agriculture now being discussed the way semiconductors were in 2021 — as a sovereign capacity that a serious country cannot offshore.
All of which sounds right, none of which changes what is happening on the ground. Because the ground is the problem.
In real estate, you think in square feet, in proximity, in comps. Farmland trades in acreage, water tables, growing seasons, and soil composition. And right now, profitably farming that acre is just about the hardest it’s ever been.
Since 2020, seed costs have climbed 18%, fertilizer 37%, fuel 32%, and interest on operating loans 73%. Labor is up 50%. These costs never came back down after the 2021-22 supply chain shock, but crop prices did, creating a double squeeze on farmers. Farmland has appreciated nearly four-fold from ~$1,090/acre in 2000 to $4,170 in 2024.
Some 40% of U.S. farmers are over 65. The American Farmland Trust estimates nearly 300M acres will change hands through inheritance in the next two decades. When it does, the math facing each heir will look a lot like Mervin’s. What would you do: keep farming a business with collapsing margins, or if one was offered, take the check?
A Collision of Old & New Economies
Datacenters, chip fabs, and other megaprojects need what farms need: flat land, abundant water, reliable power, and access to transport.
In Loudoun County, VA, ground zero of America’s datacenter buildout, farmland already lists at $55,000–$79,000/acre, a significant premium over the statewide average because markets are pricing in the possibility the land will convert from farmland to computerland.
Conversions are large and getting larger. Meta’s $10B compute cluster in Richland Parish, Louisiana, sits on 2,250 acres of former soybean fields. Samsung’s new $17B fab occupies 1,200 acres outside Taylor, Texas, a town that once called itself the largest inland cotton market in the world. Micron’s $100B megafab is going up on 1,400 acres of former agricultural land and wetlands in Clay, New York. These are some of the largest private investments in American history, and among the most economically and strategically consequential bets we’re making as a country. You can’t help but notice the symbolism of it all: each is being built on rural land that was growing something one or two generations ago.
Datacenter developers, who already need some PR help, have seen local opposition to these projects emerge as a real planning risk, with farming families showing up at county meetings to argue that once the land converts, it will never come back.
Nobody should pretend this is irrational. A fab generates more economic value per acre than any soybean field ever will, the jobs pay better, and the strategic logic of onshoring chips is sound. But the math that makes each individual conversion obvious is the same math that, in the aggregate, leaves you structurally short on food. The country is losing about 2,000 acres a day, with 18M more projected to convert by 2040.
The Flow of Capital
As Washington works to subsidize the farming, to the tune of $10–$15B in federal support each year, Wall Street is betting on the land underneath it leaving farming.
Nuveen Natural Capital, a subsidiary of TIAA, manages $13.1B in farmland across 3M acres globally and recently launched a REIT targeting $3B in new capital. Those holdings have appreciated far beyond what crop income would justify, because it follows the pattern of a conversion optionality play: buy well-located agricultural land at agricultural tax rates and wait for rezoning.
Nearly 95% of American farms are still family-run, but most are modest operations. The 6% of farms generating $1M+ in sales produce 78% of everything, up from 69% just five years ago. Farming has developed the power-law distribution of a winner-take-most industry, except the winners don’t get to set their own prices. The family farm persists in name, but the economics (and economies of scale) increasingly push it to operate like a corporation or exit.
And institutional investors have some strange bedfellows on their side of the orderbook. Foreign investors held an interest in nearly 46M acres as of 2023 – 3.6% of all privately held farmland – up 85% since 2010. Canada alone holds 15M acres. China, which cannot feed its population from its own soil, built COFCO International into a state-backed grain trader that does $38.5B a year and accumulated millions of acres globally. Saudi Arabia was pumping Arizona’s groundwater through Fondomonte, a state-linked operation growing alfalfa for export, until Arizona killed the leases in 2023. Those countries treat productive soil as something worth a sovereign premium, and something you want to physically control…
[The authors recount the history of “Agro-Doomerism” and consider the (largely technological) potential solutions to the conundrum: “This is a hard problem, but it is a solvable one, as shown by the long history of technological revolutions in agriculture. Today, a set of technologies that were each too expensive or immature a decade ago have converged to the point where the raw inputs for a farm, ex land, can get radically cheaper, all at once.” They enumerate some of those potential saviors, and conclude…}
… The long arc of agro-doomerism and technological revolutions say there’s reasons for optimism. Many times before, the “math” said we’d run out of food; many times before, new science, systems, and processes came along that changed the denominator and proved the doomers wrong. Hoping and praying for AGI or another Norman Borlaug [the father of the Green Revolution] to save our bacon is not a strategy, but abundance-oriented technology stacks that don’t force a zero-sum choice between preservation and productivity might be. We should look at systems that help unfallow and uplift acres, making farmland competitive enough that we don’t pave over too much and one day realize we want the topsoil back – or our ag trade deficit erased.
The bet worth making is 1) to never bet against America, of course, and 2) that something similar will happen here: that productivity, not preservation alone, will close the gap. This is a generational opportunity, a category deeply in the national interest, and a sector wanting more capital, technology, engineers, and founders to show up. Those who get there first will be serving a gigantic market, and attacking a problem that Washington has acknowledged is existential but has no idea how to productively solve.
The supermarket of the world was built on cheap land and cheap water. Neither are cheap anymore, and both are being bid up by us – via population growth – as well as the industrial renaissance that we care so deeply about. But that doesn’t mean we can forget foundational inputs – literally – to our way of life…
Farming vs. fabs (and data centers)… American agriculture is caught in a collision between old and new economies: “The Supermarket of the World.”
The Trump administration’s new dietary guidelines urging Americans to eat far more meat and dairy products will, if followed, come at a major cost to the planet via huge swathes of habitat razed for farmland and millions of tons of extra planet-heating emissions.
A new inverted food pyramid recently released by Donald Trump’s health department emphasizes pictures of steak, poultry, ground beef and whole milk, alongside fruits and vegetables, as the most important foods to eat.
The new guidelines are designed to nearly double the amount of protein currently consumed by Americans. “Protein and healthy fats are essential and were wrongly discouraged in prior dietary guidelines,” said Robert F Kennedy Jr, the US health secretary. “We are ending the war on saturated fats.”
But a surge in meat-eating by Americans would involve flattening vast tracts of ecosystems such as forests to make way for the hefty environmental hoofprint of raised livestock, emitting large quantities of greenhouse gases in the process, experts have warned.
Even a 25% increase in the amount of protein consumed in this way in the US would require about 100m acres of additional agricultural land each year, an area about the size of California, and add hundreds of millions of tons of extra pollution to an already overheatingplanet, according to an estimate by the World Resources Institute (WRI), a non-profit research body.
“We are seeing millions of acres of forest cut down and agricultural expansion is the lead driver of that – adding 100m acres to that to feed the US means additional pressure on the world’s remaining ecosystems,” said Richard Waite, the director of agriculture initiatives at WRI.
“It’s already hard to feed the global population while reducing emissions and stopping deforestation, and a shift in this direction would make the challenge even harder. We need to reduce the impact of our food systems urgently and the US is an important piece of the puzzle in doing that.”
While many Americans will simply ignore the guidelines, the new framework will probably influence institutions such as schools and federal workplaces. The average American already eats about 144kg (317lb) of meat and seafood a year, second globally only to Portugal, and ingests more protein than previous federal government guidelines recommended.
Any further increase will be felt in places such as the Amazon rainforest, which is already being felled at a rapid rate for cattle ranches and to grow livestock feed.
Red meat, in particular, has an outsized impact upon the planet – beef requires 20 times more land and emits 20 times more greenhouse gas emissions per gram of protein than common plant proteins, such as beans. The raising of cows, pigs, lamb and other animals for slaughter is also associated with significantlocalized air and water pollution.
“To the extent that people follow these guidelines and eat more animal protein foods, particularly beef and dairy, they will negatively impact our environment, since the production of these foods emits way more greenhouse gases than vegetable protein foods, or even other animal foods,” said Diego Rose, a director of nutrition at Tulane University.
Choosing beef over beans and lentils is “a big choice we make that has real consequences”, said Waite. “If people want more protein there are ways to do that via eating plant-based foods without the environmental impacts. We can have our protein and our forests, too.”
Animal agriculture is responsible for about a fifth of global emissions, with little progress made in recent years to reduce its impact as more of the world starts to demand meat products. Worldwide consumption of pork, beef, poultry and meat is projected to reach over 500m tonnes by 2050 –double what it was in 2000.
In the US, much of this meat-eating is concentrated in a relatively small group of avid carnivores – just 12% of Americans consume nearly half of the country’s beef, a 2024 study found. But plant-based options, including “fake meat” burgers, have suffered a slump in sales in recent years amid a resurgent trend in meat-eating, fueled by online “meatfluencers” and a broader desire to consume more protein.
The environmental problems associated with the meat industry were previously highlighted by Kennedy himself, when he was a campaigner on green issues. At one point, Kennedy even said the pork industry was an even bigger threat to the US than Osama bin Laden, the terrorist mastermind.
“The factory meat industry has polluted thousands of miles of America’s rivers, killed billions of fish, pushed tens of thousands of family farmers off their land, sickened and killed thousands of US citizens, and treated millions of farm animals with unspeakable and unnecessary cruelty,” Kennedy wrote in 2004.
However, since becoming Trump’s health secretary, Kennedy has sought to elevate meat-eating, dismissing an independent scientific committee’s advice to emphasize plant-based proteins to instead favor meat.
“The Trump administration will no longer weaponize federal food policy to destroy the livelihoods of hard-working American ranchers and protein producers under the radical dogma of the Green New Scam,” a spokesperson for the Department of Health and Human Services said in response to questions about the knock-on environmental impacts of the new guidelines.
“Americans already eat a lot of meat, so this promotion of more meat and things like beef tallow is puzzling to me,” said Benjamin Goldstein, a researcher at the University of Michigan who has studied the huge emissions associated with meat-eating by city-dwellers in the US.
“We needed to be addressing climate change two decades ago and we are still not doing enough now. If we are adding more greenhouse gases to impose unnecessary ideas of protein intake, that’s going to destabilize the climate further. It’s going to have a big impact.”…
As we deconstruct diet, we might send bibulous birthday greetings to William Claude Dukenfield; he was born on this date in 1880. Better known by his stage name, W.C. Fields, an actor, comedian, juggler, and writer, became a vaudeville headliner, “the world’s greatest juggler” [which he may have been], then transitioned to Broadway (e.g., the Ziegfeld Follies revue and Poppy, wherein he perfected his persona as a colorful small-time con man) and began appearing in silent films. In the 1930s, Fields wrote and starred in a series of successful short films for (his golf buddy) Mack Sennett, then appeared in 13 feature films for Paramount. An illness sidelined him in the late 30s, but he roared back in the early 40s with Universal classics like My Little Chickadee, The Bank Dick, and Never Give a Sucker an Even Break.
Now widely regarded one of the comic geniuses of the 20th century, the Surrealists loved Fields’ absurdism and anarchistic pranks. Max Ernst painted a Project for a Monument to W. C. Fields (1957), and René Magritte made an Homage to Mack Sennett (1934).
From the piece featured below: “GDP per capita in Madagascar is about the same today as it was in 1950. As a consequence, the number of people in extreme poverty increased in line with the country’s population growth” (image source)
It’s easy to feel hope in the advances that the world has made in eraditcating extreme poverty over the last several decades. But as Max Roser writes, unless the poorest economies start growing, this period of progress against the worst form of poverty is over…
In the last decades, the world has made fantastic progress against extreme poverty. In 1990, 2.3 billion people lived in extreme poverty. Since then, the number of extremely poor people has declined by 1.5 billion people.
This means on any average day in the last 35 years, about 115,000 people left extreme poverty behind.1 Leaving the very worst poverty behind doesn’t mean a life free of want, but it does mean a big change. Additional income matters most for those who have the least. It means having the chance to leave hunger behind, to gain access to clean water, to access better healthcare, and to have at least some electricity — for light at night and perhaps even to cook and heat.
Can we expect this rapid progress to continue?
Unfortunately, we cannot. Based on current trends, progress against extreme poverty will come to a halt. As we’ll see, the number of people in extreme poverty is projected to decline, from 831 million people in 2025 to 793 million people in 2030. After 2030, the number of extremely poor people is expected to increase.
To understand why the rapid progress against deep poverty will not continue into the future, we need to know why the world made progress in the past.
Extreme poverty declined in the last three decades because, back in the 1990s, the majority of the poorest people on the planet lived in countries that subsequently achieved very fast economic growth. In Indonesia and China, more than two-thirds of the population lived in extreme poverty. But these economies then grew rapidly, so that by today, the share has declined to less than 10%. Other large Asian countries — including India, Pakistan, Bangladesh, and the Philippines — also achieved strong growth, and as a consequence, the share living in extreme poverty declined rapidly. Much of the progress happened in Asia, but conditions in other regions improved too: the share living in extreme poverty also declined in Ghana, Cape Verde, Cameroon, Panama, Bolivia, Mexico, Brazil, and many other countries.
This chart shows the economic change in these countries over the past decades. As incomes increased, the share of people in extreme poverty declined.
Share of population living in extreme poverty vs. GDP per capita, 1990 to 2024 (World Bank, Eurostat, OECD, IMF)
What is different today is that the majority of the world’s poorest people are stuck in economies that have been stagnating for a long time.Consider the case of Madagascar. In the long run, the country has not seen any growth at all: GDP per capita in Madagascar is about the same today as it was in 1950. As a consequence, the number of people in extreme poverty increased in line with the country’s population growth. In richer countries, it is possible to reduce poverty by reducing inequality through redistribution, but a country like Madagascar cannot reduce its share of people in extreme poverty through redistribution. This is because the mean income is lower than the poverty line; if everyone had the same income, everyone would be living in extreme poverty.
The situation is similar in other countries, as the chart below shows: in the Democratic Republic of Congo, Mozambique, Malawi, Burundi, and the Central African Republic, more than half of the population lives in extreme poverty. As their economies have stagnated, the deep poverty that most people live in has remained largely unchanged for decades.
This is why we have to expect the end of progress against extreme poverty based on current trends. If the poorest economies remain stagnant, hundreds of millions of people will continue to live in extreme poverty.
Share of population living in extreme poverty, 1992-2022 (World Bank)
I’m always skeptical when people say that we are at a juncture in history where the future looks much different than the past. But when it comes to the fight against extreme poverty, I fear it is true. Today, the majority of the world’s poorest people are living in economies that have not achieved economic growth in the recent past… Based on current trends, we have to expect the end of progress against extreme poverty…
… It’s no news that we should expect an end to progress against extreme poverty. This article is an update of an article I published in 2019, in which I wrote the same: the fact that the poorest economies are not growing means that the rapid progress against extreme poverty seen in the last decades will end.
Although this prospect has been known for years, it has hardly received the attention it deserves. Progress against extreme poverty was one of humanity’s most outstanding achievements of the past decades — the end of it would be one of the very worst realities of the coming ones.
Importantly, however, these projections are not predictions; their purpose is not to describe what the world in 2030 or 2040 will certainly look like. These projections describe what we have to expect based on current trends; they tell us about our present world rather than the reality of tomorrow. Current trends don’t have to become future facts: many countries left extreme poverty behind in the past, because they had a moment at which they broke out of stagnation.
What these projections tell us, however, is that if the poorest countries do not start to grow, a very bleak future is ahead of us: a future in which extreme poverty remains the reality for hundreds of millions for many years to come…
As we put our shoulders to the wheel, we might spare a thought for a man who contributed mightily to our capacity to feed humanity, Kenneth V. Thimann; he died on this date in 1997. A microbiologist, he was a pioneer in plant physiology (especially the hormones that control the development of plants). Building on the thinking of Frits Went, he identified the first plant hormone to be discovered– the first auxin, a class of growth hormones, and revealed its chemical structure– which proved very important to agriculture and its yields.
Tomorrow is, of course, Thanksgiving Day in the United States… and for many, an occasion to take “the cousin walk.” (R)D will be off for the day, returning (no doubt with a tryptophan hangover) on Friday.
Meantime, Alicia Kennedy on what’s become of “the foodie” and what it would mean to take taste serously again…
The foodie is in crisis. For forty years, the word itself has been hanging out in the culture, signifying a person who doesn’t just eat but knows what farm the arugula came from and which chef in town has the hottest pedigree. Where once the foodie had Anthony Bourdain roving the world in a leather jacket, telling them how to travel, what to eat, and how to be in restaurants, his death in 2018 left a hole that seemingly nothing in today’s food culture can fill. How does food emerge from its post-Bourdain malaise? Not even Stanley Tucci searching for Italy could resuscitate the culture into a consensus about who the foodie is now and what they care about.
Perhaps the foodie has become imperiled by the transformation of so many of our meals, snacks, and grocery hauls into mere fodder for social media. Preparing, serving, and eating food is now too often only a prelude to posting: the dimly lit dinner party featuring a mountain of whipped butter beside sourdough bread, the Saturday breakfast with an espresso cup placed just so upon the salmon newsprint of the Financial Times, a sun-drenched spread of shellfish on a trip to Lisbon—all in service to the almighty god of content. Being a foodie is no longer about experience and knowledge. Documentation is in; expertise is out, even if we can all cite Bourdain explaining that Sichuan food with Coke is the best way to cure a hangover.
The problem isn’t just about the domination of food culture by internet aesthetics. Instead, it’s about the way food enthusiasts use those aesthetics to curate away complexity and discomfort, leaving food systems unchallenged and food culture shallow. If all you want is a nice meal on the table, you don’t have to think about the overworked and underpaid farmworkers who made it possible. If you want pop history or recipes, you can gorge on them. This may all be perfectly pleasant. But what’s been lost in the process is the foodie’s potential power as both tastemaker and advocate…
[Kennedy consider two recent books: All Consuming: Why We Eat the Way We Eat Now, by Ruby Tandoh (former star of The Great British Bake Off) and Marion Nestle’s (author of Food Politics and originator of New York University’s Food Studies program) newly updated version of her 2006 classic, What to Eat Now. “Taken together, these books model what we’ve lost and point toward reclaiming it.” She then considers the late 20th century cultural history of food and foodies…]
… there’s a fundamental tension at the heart of foodie culture: everyone must eat, making food more universal than music or theater—yet class inequities shape how we do it, turning appetite into a marker of status. This is precisely why the term matters. Unlike other cultural identities, the foodie sits at the intersection of necessity and privilege, with the potential to bridge this divide—or to further entrench it.
Books like Tandoh’s and Nestle’s point toward closing that divide. They recognize that food can’t be detangled from industry and profit—that’s how it reaches our tables—but insist we look at the whole system. Behind the perfect peaches on social media feeds puppeteered by corporate algorithms are exploited farmworkers passing out from heatstroke. Behind every foodie is someone who just needs to eat, especially now that the federal government is fighting about SNAP. The question is whether those realities can coexist in our consciousness, or whether our fractured landscape will keep them separate.
For more than forty years, the word foodie has functioned as an inescapable shorthand for “someone who cares about food.” The shape that care takes is the real question. Nestle and Tandoh are arguing for rigorous care but in different ways: these books ask readers to remember the corporate and political power behind every option at the supermarket, and to be conscious of how various kinds of media are selling us certain sorts of gastronomic pleasure. Read in tandem, they ask us to be active participants in our daily meals beyond mere procurement. The first step toward a more conscientious foodie might be reclaiming the idea that our relationship to food exists not solely through recipes and memes but through power structures and systemic inequities that govern how food is grown, sold, and shared. A foodie’s appetite must have room for both pleasure and responsibility.
As we contemplate comestibles, we might recall that this date in 1789 was chosen by George Washington (on October 3rd of that year) as the ocassion of the young nation’s first official Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving was first cellebrated as a regular national holiday on the fianl THursday in November, by proclamation of President Abraham Lincoln, on this date in 1863.
Read the full text of Washington’s proclamation here (and of Lincoln’s here).
… and if we’re not careful, we might not be too pleased with what we get. Sam Altman says the one-person billion-dollar company is coming. Evan Ratliff tells the tale of his attempt to build a completely AI-automated venture…
… If you’ve spent any time consuming any AI news this year—and even if you’ve tried desperately not to—you may have heard that in the industry, 2025 is the “year of the agent.” This year, in other words, is the year when AI systems are evolving from passive chatbots, waiting to field our questions, to active players, out there working on our behalf.
There’s not a well agreed upon definition of AI agents, but generally you can think of them as versions of large language model chatbots that are given autonomy in the world. They are able to take in information, navigate digital space, and take action. There are elementary agents, like customer service assistants that can independently field, triage, and handle inbound calls, or sales bots that can cycle through email lists and spam the good leads. There are programming agents, the foot soldiers of vibe coding. OpenAI and other companies have launched “agentic browsers” that can buy plane tickets and proactively order groceries for you.
In the year of our agent, 2025, the AI hype flywheel has been spinning up ever more grandiose notions of what agents can be and will do. Not just as AI assistants, but as full-fledged AI employees that will work alongside us, or instead of us. “What jobs are going to be made redundant in a world where I am sat here as a CEO with a thousand AI agents?” asked host Steven Bartlett on a recent episode of The Diary of a CEO podcast. (The answer, according to his esteemed panel: nearly all of them). Dario Amodei of Anthropic famously warned in May that AI (and implicitly, AI agents) could wipe out half of all entry-level white-collar jobs in the next one to five years. Heeding that siren call, corporate giants are embracing the AI agent future right now—like Ford’s partnership with an AI sales and service agent named “Jerry,” or Goldman Sachs “hiring” its AI software engineer, “Devin.” OpenAI’s Sam Altman, meanwhile, talks regularly about a possible billion-dollar company with just one human being involved. San Francisco is awash in startup founders with virtual employees, as nearly half of the companies in the spring class of Y Combinator are building their product around AI agents.
Hearing all this, I started to wonder: Was the AI employee age upon us already? And even, could I be the proprietor of Altman’s one-man unicorn? As it happens, I had some experience with agents, having created a bunch of AI agent voice clones of myself for the first season of my podcast, Shell Game.
I also have an entrepreneurial history, having once been the cofounder and CEO of the media and tech startup Atavist, backed by the likes of Andreessen Horowitz, Peter Thiel’s Founders Fund, and Eric Schmidt’s Innovation Endeavors. The eponymous magazine we created is still thriving today. I wasn’t born to be a startup manager, however, and the tech side kind of fizzled out. But I’m told failure is the greatest teacher. So I figured, why not try again? Except this time, I’d take the AI boosters at their word, forgo pesky human hires, and embrace the all-AI employee future…
Ratliff, the undefeated king of tech journalism stunts, is back with another banger: For this piece and the accompanying podcast series, he created a start-up staffed entirely by so-called AI agents. The agents can communicate by email, Slack, text and phone, both with Ratliff and among themselves, and they have free range to complete tasks like writing code and searching the open internet. Despite their capabilities, however, the whole project’s a constant farce. A funny, stupid, telling farce that says quite a lot about the future of work that many technologists envision now…
As we analyze autonomy, we might we might spare a jaundiced thought for Trofim Denisovich Lysenko; he died on this date in 1976. A Soviet biologist and agronomist, he believed the Mendelian theory of heredity to be wrong, and developed his own, allowing for “soft inheritance”– the heretability of learned behavior. (He believed that in one generation of a hybridized crop, the desired individual could be selected and mated again and continue to produce the same desired product, without worrying about separation/segregation in future breeds–he assumed that after a lifetime of developing (acquiring) the best set of traits to survive, those must be passed down to the next generation.)
In many way Lysenko’s theories recall Lamarck’s “organic evolution” and its concept of “soft evolution” (the passage of learned traits), though Lysenko denied any connection. He followed I. V. Michurin’s fanciful idea that plants could be forced to adapt to any environmental conditions, for example converting summer wheat to winter wheat by storing the seeds in ice. With Stalin’s support for two decades, he actively obstructed the course of Soviet biology, caused the imprisonment and death of many of the country’s eminent biologists who disagreed with him, and imposed conditions that contributed to the disastrous decline of Soviet agriculture and the famines that resulted.
Interestingly, some current research suggests that heritable learning– or a semblance of it– may in fact be happening by virtue of epigenetics… though nothing vaguely resembling Lysenko’s theory.
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