The True Cost of Cheap Food: We're Not Failing—The System Is Failing Us
The food system we inherited, the one we navigate every single day, is like the water we swim in. It's so pervasive, so utterly "normal," that we don't even notice it most of the time. And when things go wrong—when we get sick, feel exhausted, struggle with weight, or just feel off—we're trained by this very system to see its failures as our own.
We tell ourselves stories: "I just lack willpower." "It must be my genes." "I'm just not disciplined enough." We feel like we're failing at the simple equation of "diet and exercise," when the truth is far more complex and, frankly, infuriating. We aren't failing the system; the system is failing us. More accurately, we are behaving exactly as the system was meticulously designed, over decades, for us to behave.
Think about the price tag on a fast-food burger or a brightly colored box of cereal. It seems cheap, right? Convenient, affordable. But that dollar amount is pure fiction. The real cost of this "cheap food" is externalized—pushed off the balance sheet and onto us, onto society, onto the planet. We pay for it over, and over, and over again.
The Fiction of the Price Tag
We pay in taxes that fund federal agricultural subsidies—over $30 billion annually—that artificially lower the price of mass-produced industrial foods, making processed options cheaper than fresh, whole foods. One 1994 report estimated that a $2 burger grown on cleared forest land should cost $200, though the true cost today would be far higher.
We, as taxpayers, pay for public support programs for the high-turnover, unstable positions in fast-food chains. We pay in subsidies for cheap grain and extractive farming. We pay in gym memberships trying to undo the damage. We pay in environmental costs that never appear on any receipt.
In short, the price of fast and cheap "food" is kept low by shifting enormous environmental, social, and health-related expenses to taxpayers, healthcare systems, and future generations. While calculating an exact amount is impossible, the true cost would be exponentially higher than the price you pay at the drive-through.
We Pay in Our Bodies
Over 42% of American adults are now obese, facing increased risks for chronic diseases like heart disease and diabetes. But here's what they don't tell you: these aren't personal failures. These are predictable outcomes of a system designed to maximize profit, not health.
Diet-related diseases cost the U.S. healthcare system over $50 billion annually in obesity-related treatments alone. We pay for diseases that were rare just a few generations ago—type 2 diabetes in children, autoimmune conditions exploding, heart disease hitting younger and younger populations. We pay in lost productivity, the countless hours missed from work or school due to brain fog, fatigue, and chronic illness.
Ultra-processed, mass-produced foods are cheap because they are subsidized and mass-produced—but they lack essential nutrients, leading to high-calorie, nutrient-poor diets. The trade-off for efficiency and low prices is a population that's simultaneously overfed and undernourished.
And we pay in the quiet, gnawing mental burden of "food guilt," the constant anxiety about what we "should" or "shouldn't" eat—a stress manufactured by the very industry selling us the conflicting products.
We Pay in Destroyed Ecosystems
The environmental toll is staggering, though it rarely shows up in our grocery bills.
Industrial agriculture accounts for one-third of global greenhouse gas emissions and uses over 70% of freshwater consumption, depleting water resources for communities. Scientists predict a loss of 24 billion tons of topsoil annually due to unsustainable farming practices, reducing soil fertility and increasing food insecurity.
We pay, catastrophically, in the degradation of our soil, the poisoning of our water, and the instability of our climate—all driven by an industrial agricultural model built for profit, not resilience. Large-scale factory farms and monocultures degrade ecosystems, making food production less resilient in the long run, ensuring future generations will pay an even steeper price.
We Pay While Corporations Profit
The cheap food industry thrives on government subsidies and corporate consolidation, with four companies controlling 85% of the meat packing industry, limiting competition and driving down farmer profits. Over 100,000 farms were lost in the U.S. between 2011 and 2020 as small farmers struggle to compete with agribusiness giants seeing record profits.
Food insecurity and poor nutrition disproportionately impact low-income communities, exacerbating health disparities across racial and economic lines. The system extracts wealth from communities—through low wages, depleted local economies, and health crises—and funnels it upward to massive corporations.
This isn't an accident. It's a design. And the indoctrination into this system begins almost at birth.
A Different Way Forward
We don't have to accept an industrial food system that prioritizes profit over people. The water we're swimming in can change.
Local food systems offer a path toward reversing the damage while ensuring fresh, nutritious food for all. When we invest in small, local farms, food dollars stay in communities, supporting family-owned farms and providing fair wages. We reduce reliance on volatile global supply chains, making our food systems more resilient to economic and climate disruptions.
Locally grown food is fresher and more nutrient-dense than processed, industrialized food. Communities with access to fresh food experience lower rates of diet-related diseases, stronger immune systems, and improved mental health. Sustainable farms use regenerative practices that restore soil health, cut water pollution, and reduce greenhouse gas emissions. Locally sourced food travels fewer miles, lowering carbon footprints and preserving biodiversity.
Your Role in Rewriting the System
Every dollar spent on local food supports healthier communities, a cleaner environment, and a stronger local economy. Here's how you can opt out of the broken system:
Shop at farmers' markets and support local growers. Your purchases directly support farmers using sustainable practices, and you get fresher, more nutritious food in return.
Advocate for policies that support sustainable agriculture. Push for subsidies that support small farmers and regenerative practices instead of industrial monocultures.
Support organizations working to expand food access. Initiatives like urban farms, farmers' markets in underserved areas, and programs that integrate fresh food into healthcare are building the infrastructure for a just food system.
Stop blaming yourself. When you feel that familiar pang of "I'm not disciplined enough," remember: you're not failing. You're navigating a system designed to extract profit at the expense of your health, your community, and the planet. That awareness itself is an act of resistance.
The true cost of cheap food is devastating—but it's not inevitable. We can build something better, one meal, one market, one community at a time. The system may have been designed to fail us, but we don't have to keep swimming in poisoned water.