Keen On America

“The number one tool that autocratic actors have is not voter suppression or gerrymandering. It’s making you feel alone and isolated.” — Skye Perryman
 
Three years ago, the president and CEO of Democracy Forward Skye Perryman came on the show to wonder what our kids will one day ask us about what we did to confront authoritarianism in America. Now she returns with an answer in the form of her New York Times bestselling Ordinary People, Extraordinary Times about how Americans can reclaim their power, fight for freedom, and reimagine democracy.
 
Her diagnosis is pretty dark. Reminding us that America joined the list of backsliding democracies in 2021, Perryman warns that this descent into authoritarianism is rapidly accelerating. But her central argument inverts the gloom. Hopelessness is a feature, she reminds us, not a bug of our extraordinary times. So, rather than voter suppression or gerrymandering, the number one tool that autocratic actors have is making us feel alone and isolated.
 
Thus her call to agency. She prescribes seven actions including what she calls “information sobriety.” We don’t all have to do everything, she says, but everyone needs to do something. She ends where we began three years ago — with the kids. Skye Perryman dedicates the new book to her son as a way, I suspect, of telling him what she has been doing to confront authoritarianism in America. Ordinary people in extraordinary times, indeed.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       A Generational Threat. Three years of Democracy Forward’s work, summarized from the courtroom: challenging executive overreach by the Trump-Vance administration, fighting book bans, and managing the fallout of Dobbs. America, Perryman notes, has never been immune to anti-democratic movements — they’ve been here since the founding — but this moment is “unprecedented in many ways”: the question is no longer just whether the country can move toward a democracy that works for everyone, but whether it can hold hard-earned gains like equal rights and voting rights at all. The receipts: the United States was added to the global list of backsliding democracies in 2021 — she and Andrew discussed it then — has stayed on it every year since, and the slide is accelerating, driven in part by a Supreme Court that more often reverses rights than protects them: the fruit, she argues, of a multi-decade far-right project against the civil rights movement’s gains. Even thirteen presidential libraries — Republican ones included — have sounded the alarm.
•       Neither Adjunct Nor Partisan. Andrew’s needle — blurbs from Hillary Clinton, JB Pritzker, the late Gloria Steinem, and Stacey Abrams: is Democracy Forward an adjunct of the Democratic Party? — drew her counter-blurb: Michael Steele, former chair of the Republican National Committee, endorsed the book too. The standard, she insists, is conduct, not letters after names: “we will oppose anyone” who strips constitutional rights, threatens journalists, or sends masked ICE agents into communities — and the administration’s agenda harms Republican voters in red towns like her native Waco as surely as anyone. As for the that’s-just-democracy argument — Trump won, deal with it — she calls it “quite an un-American argument” twice over: nonvoters outnumbered the supporters of either candidate in 2024, and America is not a plebiscite but a democratic republic with a constitution. It doesn’t matter how large the majority: “he can’t jail journalists for what they report. He can’t kill Americans in the middle of the street.”
•       Is It Evil? Andrew previewed later this week’s guest — the philosopher Susan Neiman, whose new book calls the Trump-MAGA movement evil — and put the word to Perryman directly. Her answer, from a onetime philosophy major: judged by deeds — stripping families apart, terrorizing communities with masked agents, calling whole groups of people garbage — “if you wanna use the word evil… I’m with you there.” But she draws a practiced line between labeling acts and movements, which she will, and labeling every individual, which she won’t: most Americans of good faith across difference deserve bridges, while much of the president’s movement has operated in bad faith that forfeits them. The same discipline shapes her answer to Andrew’s question about national reconciliation, via the title of Omar El Akkad’s Gaza book (One Day Everyone Will Have Always Been Against This): no backsliding democracy anywhere, she notes, has managed a U-turn “without some measure of truth and accountability.” That reckoning is tomorrow’s work; today’s is holding the administration accountable in the present tense.
•       Hopelessness Is a Feature, Not a Bug. The book’s central reframe, previewed in her Rolling Stone essay: the despair so many Americans feel is not a byproduct of the assault on democracy — it is the strategy. “The number one tool that autocratic actors have is not voter suppression or gerrymandering. It’s making you feel alone and isolated” — deprived of hope and agency alike. Hence action one of seven: stop spiraling and pick up a shovel. Doomscrolling, she argues, is the trap perfected — it feels like civic attention while it exhausts you into paralysis; “they want you doomscrolling.” The exit is communal: show up — even alone — to a No Kings march, discover the crowd feels as you do, and let community produce the conditions for courage, and courage for hope. We can’t control what the administration does each morning; we can control how we respond. The goal is a conversion: from spectators of democratic decline to agents of change, in small and repeatable ways.
•       Everyone Needs to Do Something. The practical core. Action two, information sobriety: audit your media diet, learn the difference between news and commentary and between independent and merely accurate journalism, get curious across the spectrum, and keep a healthy intake of the genuinely independent — the AP, ProPublica, NPR — whoever owns the rest. (Andrew’s Murdoch question got the even-handed version: know what’s influencing whatever you read, Breitbart or the Times.) The book meets readers where they are — the exhausted, the seasoned, the unplugged — because its creed is proportion, not purity: “we don’t all have to do everything, but everyone needs to do something.” And it ends at the beginning: dedicated to her son, with a kids’ corner and a chapter called Begin at Your Front Door — democracy lives there, not in Washington, and the young, whose future-visioning she finds more inspiring than their elders’ present fights, deserve to be heard on AI, climate, and the country they’ll inherit. Andrew’s verdict: an optimistic book in what many people insist are our dark times — a way, he suspects, of telling her son what she has been doing to confront authoritarianism in America. Ordinary people in extraordinary times, indeed.
 
About the Guest
 
Skye Perryman is president and CEO of Democracy Forward, a TIME 100 honoree, and a nationally recognized attorney; under her leadership, De...

“A sailor doesn’t control the sea, but understanding the waves matters enormously.” — Mikko Ketovuori
 
Our mood, as always, is miserable. Iran, the price of oil, the AfD, the long-term cancers from 9/11 dominate the headlines. But today’s guest thinks we’ve got the mood wrong. The writer Mikko Ketovuori — who wrote the intro to the Finnish edition of my own The Internet Is Not the Answer — has a new book out, Waves of Change, which is a study of the zeitgeist. Social mood drives events, Ketovuori argues, not the other way around. So the news measures nothing but the mood itself.
 
Are our times actually bad? “No,” Ketovuori insists. Things — from the arts to our abundance of food — are actually pretty good. Today’s perceived misery is, in fact, just the undertow. Surfing the waves of history — from the Dutch tulip mania of the 17th century to the 19th century philosophers buried in Highgate cemetery to the swinging Sixties — Ketovuori is actually bullish on our current futures. So buy the future. It will cheer everyone up.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       Social Mood Drives Events. The inversion at socionomics’ core: we assume events shape our feelings, but the collectively shared, largely unconscious social mood comes first, framing how we interpret everything — the news is “a sociometer,” reflecting the mood rather than the world (in the bright-mooded 1980s, Ketovuori notes, the news simply read better). The field — sociology plus economics — was founded by Robert Prechter, the 1970s Wall Street guru behind Elliott Wave International, with whom Ketovuori has worked for twenty years; the book distills four decades of that tradition, “not totally my idea,” he says with Finnish honesty. And are our times actually bad? No: “actually, we are doing pretty well. You can have access to all the arts, all the books… We have plenty of food. What else do we need?” The misery is the mood — and if you surround yourself with miserable people and search the Internet for miserable news, you will reliably feel miserable.
•       The Beatles and the Dow. Prechter founded the theory on a startling correlation between the Beatles’ rise and the Dow Jones average — and Ketovuori ran the replication: Nokia’s share price against the pop music Finland listened to around 2006–2009, published in Cambridge’s Popular Music journal. Music, he argues, reflects social mood almost predictively. The chicken-and-egg question resolves cleanly in socionomics: the sixties made the Beatles, not the reverse — had Lennon and McCartney been born ten years earlier, “the time decides whether you succeed or not.” Which reframes where the next optimism will come from: unknowable in advance, because “optimism comes first, and then we see the fruits” — only afterward do we anoint the artists, writers, and politicians who captured the essence of the era.
•       Marx & Spencer, Staring. The book’s set piece — written standing in Highgate Cemetery, a stroll from Andrew’s old school: Karl Marx’s tourist-thronged tomb faces the largely forgotten grave of Herbert Spencer, the Social Darwinist — “the father of capitalism and the father of socialism are staring at each other,” and Ketovuori imagines their conversation after the tourists leave and night falls. Andrew completes the triangle with Highgate’s third resident, Alexander Litvinenko — the Putin-poisoned defector whose polonium killing, Ketovuori marvels via Luke Harding’s reporting, cost something like £50 million “just to wipe out one man. So somebody hated him very much.” The cemetery lesson is the book’s: some things don’t change, they return cyclically — Wagner and mad Ludwig included. Cemeteries, both agree, are creative places.
•       The Finnish Corrective. Finland supplies the book’s ballast. The history: the Winter War against Stalin (Hitler’s ally, by the Ribbentrop pact), independence kept “just by fighting back,” then the deck reshuffled by Barbarossa — and, little remembered, Finland driving the Germans from Lapland after 1944. The present: Finnish far right and far left importing American arguments verbatim — “that’s crazy, because we are not Americans” — opinions taken from media rather than lived. And the myth-busting: days before recording, new PISA results showed Finland’s fabled education system “has really gone down.” The thirty-year teacher educator’s advice to admiring Americans: “look to Estonia.” Even education, he notes from a chapter on lecturing at Columbia Teachers College, moves in cycles of idealization and correction.
•       A Sailor Doesn’t Control the Sea. The agency question, answered in the episode’s pull quote: we steer our own lives, but the social mood — the sea itself — no one controls. The evidence tour: Disney thrives in optimistic times while 1975’s dark mood produced Taxi Driver and “the movie about the shark” (past guest territory twice over — Scorsese biographer Mark Binelli visits soon); Prechter’s firm, Ketovuori claims, predicted the date of the Crimea war from wave analysis of the Moscow stock exchange; and yesterday’s Edmans episode gets its socionomic sequel in his tulip-mania essay. To Andrew’s closing paradox — American stock-market exuberance and cultural apocalypticism simultaneously, per this week’s Kirsch episode on UFOs — Ketovuori answers “neither” is real, noting the last great UFO panic also preceded a world war. His distinction: technology amplifies mood but doesn’t originate it — the Internet books were euphoric before 2008 and dark after, as Andrew’s own shelf attests. We, the people, decide how to use it. Andrew’s sign-off takes the bullish view: buy the future — it will cheer everyone up.
 
About the Guest
 
Mikko Ketovuori is a University Lecturer in the Department of Teacher Education at the University of Turku, Finland. His research spans socionomics and herd theory, education policy, and the role of the arts in society; he has lectured across Asia, Europe, and North America, and is the author of Socionomics: How Social Mood Shapes Society. He also wrote the introduction to the Finnish edition of Andrew’s The Internet Is Not the Answer. Waves of Change: A Study of Social Mood (Iff Books, October 2026) collects thirteen essays on the tides of collective feeling. He lives in Turku, the old capital of Finland.
 
References:
 
•       Waves of Change: A Study of Social Mood by Mikko Ketovuori (Iff Books, October 2026). The publisher’s tagline: history doesn’t repeat itself — social mood does.
•       Socionomics: How Social Mood Shapes Society by Mikko Ketovuori, and Robert Prechter’s The Socionomic Theory of Finance — the theoretical foundations.
•       The Madness of Markets by Alex Edmans — yesterday’s episode, and the rationalist’s account of the same manias.
•       We Want to Believe by Adam Kirsch — this week’s UFO episode; Ketov...

“We might have invented the aliens that we’ve been looking for.” — Adam Kirsch
 
First he took on the transhumanists. Then the settler-colonialism fanatics. Now Adam Kirsch aims his critical pen at the ultimate crazies — the flying saucer crowd. In We Want to Believe, Kirsch explains how aliens went mainstream and why this once-crackpot conspiracy theory has become a mainstream political and cultural fact.
 
The beauty (if that’s the right word) of the subject, Kirsch argues, is that because UFOs don’t really exist, the flying saucer rumor mill encapsulates the paranoia of our populist age. Ever since the 2017 New York Times exposé of the Pentagon’s secret UFO program, it’s an industry that has fed off both the crisis of traditional authority and the suspicion that the people in power know more than they’re letting on. Elites, in other words, know nothing and everything. Simultaneously. Maybe, even, they’re the aliens themselves (see: Invasion of the Body Snatchers).
 
Underneath this silliness, Kirsch notes, is something more substantial. Perhaps religion itself. Where people once saw miracles or demons, they now see little green-headed creatures packed into flying saucers. In other words, they provide a vocabulary for experiences that we can’t explain, as well as a community with which we can share that mystery.
 
So what happens when the aliens finally show up? As I suggested, maybe these transcendental creatures arrived. We’ve built them ourselves in the form of artificial intelligence. Kirsch agreed, seeing AI as a kind of nonhuman mind that doesn’t experience the world as we do. Such a Copernican moment is “very imaginable,” the sceptic concedes. Disclosure Day. Starring Adam Kirsch.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       A Pure Thought Experiment. The trilogy’s logic, completed: three short books on popular ideas, this one distinguished by the fact that its subject doesn’t exist — which is precisely its value. UFOs, Kirsch argues, let us think “in a very sort of almost consequence-free way” about who decides what’s real, whose authority we trust, and why people need to believe — the defining questions of a populist moment in which vaccines, public health, and yesterday’s common sense are all contested. The hinge was 2017: the New York Times’s “Glowing Auras and ‘Black Money’” exposé revealed the Pentagon’s AATIP program, and the paper of record saying the government knows more than it admits took UFOs from niche conspiracy to mainstream issue. Kirsch himself started paying attention — smoke that might lead to fire. “Unfortunately, in the years since then, no fire has been discovered.” What he learned instead: how easy it is to be misled, and what scientific evidence actually is.
•       ’Oumuamua’s Wager. The book’s treatment of past guest Avi Loeb is a study in the seduction of credentials: an astrophysicist of unimpeachable standing willing to entertain what colleagues won’t — that the interstellar object ‘Oumuamua might have been a broken light sail from an alien probe — “kindles the imagination,” Kirsch’s included. But the metal globs from the Pacific floor and the fresh candidates each year breed suspicion, and the standard remains Carl Sagan’s: extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence. Loeb’s reply reworks Pascal — ‘Oumuamua’s wager: believe, because the benefits of an open mind outweigh the cost of being wrong. Kirsch’s honesty cuts through: “I would love to believe in UFOs.” Nothing would be more exciting. Which sharpens the genuine scientific conundrum — the space age promised a galaxy teeming with signals and delivered silence: “Why is Earth so important if it should be so unimportant? Where are all the other Earths?”
•       The Archetype of Conspiracy. The disclosure paradigm is eighty years old, and it trained us all: the people in power know more than they’re letting on, there are secret tapes and files, and the people deserve the truth — a template rehearsed on Roswell long before COVID or the Epstein files. Andrew’s gloss: elites, in other words, know nothing and everything — simultaneously. Maybe, even, they’re the aliens themselves (see: Invasion of the Body Snatchers). The official history runs from Truman’s alarm at the early-fifties Washington flap (if the Soviets can reach our skies, we must know) through the commissions of Ruppelt, J. Allen Hynek, and Edward Condon — whose report closed the file for half a century — to the 2017 AATIP revelation that reopened it, complete with congressional hearings and annual Pentagon reporting requirements. Today’s ledger: military pilots keep reporting lights that move impossibly; 95 percent get explained; the unexplained 5 percent “doesn’t mean that they’re UFOs — it just means there isn’t enough information.” Even the vocabulary tells the story: “UFO,” coined in the fifties to sound neutral, absorbed the flying saucer and had to be replaced by “UAP.” Spielberg’s Disclosure Day — fan service for believers, by Kirsch’s account, and disappointing by Andrew’s — monetizes the same secret-truth appeal that made Close Encounters.
•       A Religious Impulse. Why do people believe? The scholar D. W. Pasulka’s “book encounters” supply Kirsch’s answer: someone has an experience they can’t understand, reads the UFO literature, and says this is what happened to me — where a medieval villager would have named a miracle, a demon, or a god. Belief provides a vocabulary for the inexplicable and a community to interpret it with; Jacques Vallée, Silicon Valley’s resident UFO intellectual, adds the perennialist claim that people have always seen strange things in the sky and that they mark “reality beyond our rational mind.” Science fiction serves the same hunger — Kirsch’s own California childhood ran on The Next Generation and Asimov — a sandbox for questions religion once answered: what are humans for, why is mind so out of place in the universe? And the aliens we imagine are always mirrors: Wells’s Darwinian indifference (we are their microbes), the Cold War’s destroyers and moral guides, and now Musk’s Mars — an insurance policy for mind itself against our own extinction. The catch that keeps UFOs at the intersection of science and belief: real aliens must obey physics, interstellar distances forbid the journey, so belief becomes “a big X” — faith that there’s physics we haven’t found. Even Sagan’s Contact, Kirsch notes, resorts to a wormhole. Magic, scientifically dressed.
•       The Aliens We Invented. The conversation’s destination, via Andrew’s suggestion that the aliens have arrived and we built them: “we might have invented the aliens that we’ve been looking for” — nonhuman minds, freed from biology, that don’t experience the world as we do and may transcend or outlive us. What felt like science fiction when The Revolt Against Humanity appeared in 2023 now reads as near-future planning — and the AI lens even revises the search heuristic: perhaps advanced technology isn’t skyscrapers in space but something chip-small, too compact to see. Pressed on whether a Copernican moment could leave skeptics — him and Andrew both — with egg on their faces, Kirsch concedes it’s “very imaginable,” with the caveat that the loudest AGI claims come from those selling it. The poet’s summation: the world not being made to our measure has been...

“When people trade, even before fees and commissions, the average trade loses money.” — Alex Edmans
 
Isaac Newton might be able to foresee the movement of the stars, but he couldn’t foretell the madness of men. It was a lesson that cost the great physicist £4 million (in today’s money) when he threw his fortune into the South Sea Bubble. This priceless parable in Newtonian psychology opens The Madness of Markets, the new book by Alex Edmans — London Business School finance prof, old friend of the show, and author of the bestselling May Contain Lies.
 
Dr Edmans’s prognosis is bracingly unflattering to guys like Isaac Newton and Mark Twain who splurge their fortunes on speculative ventures. Intelligence, he reminds us, is domain-specific, but many smart people simply aren’t intelligent enough to realize this. So, in the age of Robinhood — when we can all trade anything from stocks, options, crypto to NFTs — the supposed wisdom of crowds is sometimes driven over the cliff by the irrational exuberance of dumb individuals.
 
Speaking of driving off the cliff, ninety percent of us think we’re above-average drivers, Edmans jokes, and this same delusion applies to markets. Unfortunately, such stupidity can be expensive for big brain types like Newton or Twain. “When people trade, even before fees and commissions, the average trade loses money,” he warns.
 
So close your Robinhood account and stick your cash in the bank? No, not quite. Know your edge, Edmans reminds us. And when it comes to making sense of the current AI boom, Edmans offers some particularly wise words. The AI sector trades at 25 to 30 times earnings rather than Cisco’s bubble-era 190, he notes, so it’s unlikely anyone will lose their life’s savings on Anthropic or OpenAI.
 
That said, the good doctor Edmans advises, don’t confuse your self-worth with your net worth. That’s a rookie conceit that only somebody as smart as Isaac Newton would fall for.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       Newton’s £4 Million. The book leads with the smartest victim on record: Isaac Newton rode the South Sea Bubble, banked a tidy profit, dove back in at the very top, and lost £20,000 — £4 million today — lamenting that he could predict the movement of the stars but not the madness of men. (Andrew’s companion case, via last month’s Citizen Twain episode with Jeff Jarvis: Mark Twain, genius writer, ruinous investor.) The lesson is that smartness is domain-specific: beating the market requires knowing the company, the industry, and — crucially — what’s already priced in. A great secretary of state evaluating Theranos is the Dunning-Kruger effect in a suit: expertise misapplied, one piece of the mosaic mistaken for the whole. Even Warren Buffett’s edge, Edmans notes, is partly restraint — don’t watch the market too closely, or you’ll mistake noise for signal.
•       Know Your Edge. Edmans’s framework: play the market only if you can name your edge — knowledge (unique insight into a sector) or endurance (capital that can’t be withdrawn by flighty clients). His endurance exemplar is Clare College, Cambridge, which borrowed £10 million in the depths of 2008 and put it all into equities via its “2048 Fund”: a decade later the portfolio had tripled while the loan had merely doubled. No edge? Then “be humble” and hold a low-cost, globally diversified index fund — because the alternative is expensive. In the age of Robinhood, the market for everything has been democratized; the zero-commission promise is a myth (retail options bid-ask spreads run 20 to 25 percent); and the brokerage data is brutal: the average retail trade loses money before fees. “I’m generally a libertarian,” Edmans concedes — but decisions that jeopardize your financial future deserve a warning label.
•       Why the Ox Doesn’t Apply. The week’s second Surowiecki appearance (after the Brunton episode): Edmans explains why the wisdom of crowds — the county-fair ox whose weight the crowd guesses perfectly — fails in markets. Two reasons: nobody is emotionally attached to the weight of an ox, and the guesses are secret. Stocks invert both — in a bubble everyone bids high together, and trading is public: Reddit threads, boasting friends, influencers, and the survivorship bias of gamblers who only mention their wins. Hence Andrew’s cocktail-party indicator, confirmed: when smart, successful people start telling you how much AI they’re buying, the trade is crowded and richly priced. The contrarian lineage — Graham, Buffett, Greenblatt — exists precisely to take the other side of mimicry. Or, per Andrew’s accepted inversion of the subtitle: why crazy investors make smart decisions — Ford’s faster horses, Moneyball’s walks, Jobs’s refusal to ask customers what they want.
•       Is AI a Bubble? Maybe Not. The hour’s most contrarian calm. There are moments, Edmans says, when reasonable people could call a bubble in real time — Cisco in 2000 traded at a price-earnings ratio of 190, triple Microsoft’s. AI today trades at roughly 25 to 30 times earnings; the bear case is that those earnings rest on capex (Meta’s own investors say it’s spending too much) that may not be sustainable. His verdict: fairly priced, or modestly overvalued — “something about which reasonable people have different views.” On using AI to invest, the rule is anti-confirmation: don’t ask it why you’re right or to advocate for your pitch; ask it why you’re wrong, and let it gather mosaic pieces (Glassdoor culture scrapes) while humans still walk shop floors and read management’s eyes. Andrew’s gloss: it’s unlikely anyone will lose their life’s savings on Anthropic or OpenAI. The teaser: FT journalist Robin Wigglesworth — who blurbs this book “a maddeningly good read” and warns in the Times of the AI debt binge — visits this show soon.
•       Cutting Our Flowers, Watering Our Weeds. Andrew’s Claudeception question — what happens when Anthropic feeds The Madness of Markets into its AI and everyone turns contrarian? — got a data answer: when a trading strategy is published in the Journal of Finance, its returns fall by only about a third. Money stays on the table because psychology is stubborn: momentum (buy six-month winners) has worked since 1993, yet it fights the disposition effect — our temptation to bank winners and cling to losers, chasing casino losses, “cutting our flowers and watering our weeds.” Timing cuts both ways: six-month winners keep winning, three-year winners revert — the foundation of contrarianism — but calling the market’s top or bottom is near-impossible, which is why Edmans bought heavily in late 2008 content to be “80 percent right.” And the closing wisdom, after Joe Kennedy’s 1928 exit and Trump’s well-timed memecoin: your self-worth should have nothing to do with your net worth — a rookie conceit, as Andrew’s intro has it, that only somebody as smart as Isaac Newton would fall for.
 
About the Guest
 
Alex Edmans is Professor of Finance at London Business School and a leading expert on market psychology. His research has featured in the Financial Times, The Wall Street Journal, and on the BBC, and he has advised sovereign wealth funds, pension funds, and asset managers worldwide. He is the author of May Contain Lies, an Amazon number-one bestseller disc...

“You can’t talk people out of wanting a burger.” — Erin Somers
 
In February, Bruce Friedrich came on the show to explain how lab-grown meat would save the planet. Today’s guest is less sanguine about this revolution. Erin Somers — author of the bestselling novel The Ten Year Affair and a twenty-year vegetarian — spent a year exploring our supposedly meatless future. In “Where’s the Beef?”, the cover story of this month’s Harper’s, Somers describes the still-born lab-grown-meat revolution that wasn’t.
 
The problem, Somers explains, isn’t technological. Having raised $330,000 from Sergey Brin, the Dutch scientist Mark Post grew the first burger from cow shoulder cells back in 2013. What subsequently failed is everything else. The price never fell, VCs lost interest, conservatives legislated against it, and the industry’s best hope, Believer Meats, went bankrupt. Above all, the revolution never went mainstream. “You can’t talk people out of wanting a burger,” Somers explains.
 
Somers’ journey ended at the iconic Berkeley Bowl where she was offered a Sumo orange, a hybrid fruit engineered to be both delicious and resilient. Technology fed her after all. Just not in the way that revolutionaries like Bruce Friedrich predicted. The revolution won’t be meatless. Let’s hope we can still save the planet.
 
Five Takeaways
 
•       The Woolly Mammoth Meatball. Somers’s obsession began around 2022, when the Australian company Vow extracted DNA from a fossil and made a woolly mammoth meatball — which, because no one could be sure meat grown from DNA that old was safe, no one was allowed to eat. A forbidden food, conjured at great expense: to Somers, the perfect emblem of an industry that was always “a microcosm of what is going on culturally” — a gold-rush mentality among investors, a tech product perpetually not-quite-arriving, and a carnival of curiosities around the edges. It speaks, she says, directly to our AI moment: massive hype, cons and bills of goods sold in the meantime, and the actual product arriving years late in a different form. Her quest began with the simplest motive in journalism: “I just really wanna taste it.”
•       The Technology Works. Nobody’s Clamoring. The scientific story is genuine: Mark Post grew the first lab burger from cow shoulder cells in 2013 — two years’ work, $330,000, bankrolled by Sergey Brin, eaten live at London’s Riverside Studios — and the field has since scaled from petri dishes to bioreactors the size of a beer brewery. “They can actually do the things that they say.” What’s missing is everything downstream: a price point anywhere near conventional meat (two to four times as expensive), a trained workforce, and — the quiet killer — demand. “No one’s clamoring for it.” The shuttered North Carolina factory Somers visited stands fully equipped and ready to run; it simply “didn’t quite make it over the finish line.” Even MrBeast, blind-testing Upside Foods’ cultivated chicken sandwich for millions of viewers, couldn’t tell the difference — which made Somers, still untasted at the time, irrationally jealous.
•       The Believer Collapse. The piece’s centerpiece has a novelist’s timing. The day before the industry’s trade conference in North Carolina’s Research Triangle — the unexpected hub, anchored by the Bezos Center for Sustainable Protein at NC State — Somers drove forty-five minutes into the countryside to check on Believer Meats’ multimillion-dollar facility and found it shuttered. The next day, sitting among the assembled scientists and funders, the news broke: the company that was the industry’s best hope for reaching the market had gone bankrupt. Gossip filled every conference break; the postmortem was unanimous — they scaled too quickly, pushed by backers to move faster than they were ready to — and the mood sank, with two full days of programming about “the future of the industry” still to run. Andrew’s question wrote itself: after The Ten Year Affair, has America’s affair with artificial meat ended? She tasted the meat. The affair, they agreed, is concluded.
•       The Pincer. Two forces squeezed the industry simultaneously. The venture capitalists “abandoned ship once they saw how hard it was going to be” — no blame assigned, exactly: “they did what they do. They sought to make money. They bailed.” And conservative legislatures turned a tiny industry into a wedge issue, conjuring “the straw man of lab-grown meat enthusiasts who are going to take away your beef burgers” — laughable, Somers argues, since the industry “poses so little threat that it’s kind of laughable that it’s been legislated against at all. It’s almost total theater.” Bezos’s $30 million center gets measured credit — real work, smart people, and a drop in the bucket. Her deeper conclusion cuts against food moralism: personal responsibility won’t slow climate change. The fix must come from legislation and innovation, “because you can’t talk people out of wanting a burger.” The likely future, per past guest George Monbiot’s territory: a hybrid — regenerative agriculture plus alternative proteins plus policy.
•       The Sumo Orange. Is this an obituary? Somers thinks not — Andrew’s analogy: AI survived its own winters in the eighties and nineties, and downturns are chapters, not endings. The scientists are still at work, the innovations will surface elsewhere in food systems and medicine, and “nothing... will go to waste.” Her ending makes the point by indirection: at a Mission Barns tasting at the Berkeley Bowl — Andrew’s favorite store on earth — a marketing director walked her through the produce section and pressed two oranges on her. Walking away, she ate a Sumo orange: not naturally occurring, a hybrid born of food science, “engineered to be delicious and... engineered to be resilient.” Look what technology can give us, she concluded — “it’s not so dark.” Proust had his madeleine; Somers has her orange. A new novel is begun, two years out; a return visit is promised.
 
About the Guest
 
Erin Somers is a writer, essayist, and critic in Beacon, New York. She is the author of the novels Stay Up with Hugo Best and the bestselling The Ten Year Affair; her journalism and criticism have appeared widely. “Where’s the Beef? The Lab-Grown-Meat Revolution That Wasn’t” is the cover story of the September 2026 issue of Harper’s Magazine. A vegetarian of twenty years, she has now, finally, tasted the meat. Her third novel is underway.
 
References:
 
•       “Where’s the Beef? The Lab-Grown-Meat Revolution That Wasn’t” by Erin Somers — Harper’s Magazine, September 2026. The second piece from this issue on the show this week, after Finn Brunton’s “The Chaos Machine.”
•       The Ten Year Affair and Stay Up with Hugo Best by Erin Somers — the novels; a third is underway.
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