In this episode of the Huberman Lab podcast, Andrew Huberman and author Michael Pollan explore the elusive nature of consciousness and its manifestations across humans, animals, and plants. They discuss competing theories about consciousness's origins—from brain-generated emergence to filter theories and panpsychism—and examine research suggesting consciousness may arise from brainstem feelings rather than cortical thought. The conversation also addresses the paradoxical role of the "self" in consciousness and how psychedelics, meditation, and awe can induce ego dissolution.
Beyond human consciousness, Pollan presents evidence of plant intelligence and sentience, describing how plants solve problems, deploy chemical defenses, and manipulate human behavior for reproductive advantage. The episode also covers the microbiome's influence on mood and consciousness, the therapeutic potential and risks of psychedelics, and the urgent need for regenerative agriculture to address health crises linked to industrial food systems. This wide-ranging discussion challenges conventional assumptions about consciousness, intelligence, and the interconnected relationships between humans and other living systems.

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Andrew Huberman, a neuroscientist, asks Michael Pollan if consciousness can be described in a sentence, noting its definition seems elusive. Pollan agrees, explaining that the only thing we can be fully certain of is our own consciousness—everything else is inferred through that experience, making it inherently difficult to define.
Pollan references philosopher Thomas Nagel's framework, which defines consciousness as requiring subjective experience. Nagel's famous question, "What is it like to be a bat?" established that if it feels like something to be a creature, then that creature is conscious. Human consciousness, Pollan notes, stands out for incorporating self-awareness, emotional life, and the ability to mentally "time travel"—imagining futures and reflecting on the past.
Pollan distinguishes sentience from consciousness. Sentience is a foundational awareness—an organism's capacity to register and respond to environmental changes—which may be widespread among living creatures, including plants and bacteria. True consciousness, as seen in humans, layers metacognition, emotion, and future-based imagination onto this basic sentience. Huberman highlights that human consciousness includes knowing that we know and deeply considering "why." Pollan stresses that every species develops its own variety of sentience, driven by its particular body and sensory apparatus, reminding us not to use the human model as the default standard.
Pollan and Huberman agree there is no consensus on consciousness's origin. The traditional theory that consciousness emerges from brain complexity lacks definitive support. Huberman points to perplexing findings, such as experiments where rearranging neural activity sequences didn't alter behaviors, challenging how brains generate experience.
Pollan describes alternative theories. The "filter theory" proposes that brains act as receivers, detecting an external field of consciousness rather than generating it—much like a TV tuning into signals. Panpsychism suggests consciousness is intrinsic to all matter, with even particles bearing primitive elements that organize into complex consciousness in living beings. Neuroscientist Christoph Koch, formerly a materialist, now believes consciousness exists outside the brain and is accessed by living beings.
Some thinkers propose quantum physics may hold clues, though Pollan admits evidence connecting quantum effects to brain function remains inconclusive.
Research by Antonio Damasio and Mark Solms challenges the view that consciousness arises primarily from cortical processes. Instead, they propose consciousness originates in the brainstem, rooted in feelings and internal bodily states. The brain's primary function is sustaining life via constant bodily communication—monitoring hunger, temperature, and discomfort through signals relayed mostly by the vagus nerve.
Pollan points to evidence that consciousness may exist without a cortex, since decorticated animals and children born without one still show behavioral and emotional responses. This implies feelings, unlike thoughts, may be fundamentally conscious, suggesting that far more animals possess conscious experience than commonly assumed.
At the apex of human consciousness is the "self"—a complex construct that creates psychological boundaries and enables long-term planning. Yet consciousness doesn't always organize around the self. Pollan notes that meditation, awe-inspiring experiences, and psychedelic states can temporarily dissolve the sense of self, leaving "consciousness without self." This paradox reflects a deep truth: while a stable self is needed for achievements, some of life's happiest moments occur when the self recedes, allowing union with something greater.
Michael Pollan describes demonstrations of plant intelligence. A corn plant can navigate a maze to access nutrients, suggesting problem-solving not dictated solely by genetics. He references biologist Michael Levin's xenobots—constructed from frog skin cells—which exhibit learned behaviors and maze navigation without genetic instructions, indicating that memory and planning can arise outside neurons.
Plants also demonstrate targeted defense mechanisms: detecting caterpillar chewing vibrations, they dispatch toxins to the specific attacked leaf. Pollan notes plants possess around twenty senses—including sensitivity to gravity and pH—far surpassing the human set.
He highlights that Venus flytraps lose their rapid-response trapping ability under anesthetic gas, similar to how animals lose consciousness under anesthesia. Though Pollan avoids calling this plant "consciousness," he suggests it hints that processes underlying awareness might operate fundamentally across species.
Plants have evolved strategies to manipulate human behavior to their reproductive advantage. Pollan explains that psychoactive plants like cannabis produce THC, inducing humans to carry and propagate them globally. This demonstrates that plants have "mastered our desires as their evolutionary strategy."
Coffee and tea plants evolved caffeine for pest defense, but in humans it creates addiction and withdrawal cycles that encourage cultivation. Pollan argues this makes plants—through their "genius at biochemistry"—not passive but intelligent players that actively shape human culture, health, and consciousness.
Michael Pollan suggests the relationship between humans and plants should be more like a marriage than domination. He contrasts the American environmental tradition, which idealizes distant wilderness, with the practical engagement required of gardeners who must actively negotiate with plants for mutual success.
He offers examples of plant sophistication: plants capable of kin recognition will cooperate with relatives but compete with unrelated individuals. Pollan observes that gardeners who fulfill plant needs are rewarded with healthy crops, acknowledging that plants have agency and their own "wants."
Expanding on biology's mutual relationships, Pollan notes humans outsource critical neurochemical production to gut bacteria, showing intelligence often arises from cooperation across kingdoms. He argues that while Americans seek lessons from wilderness, the garden is now a more practical site for environmental learning—acknowledging both human and plant interests and seeking coexistence.
Michael Pollan describes how high doses of psilocybin can dissolve the sense of self completely. In his own experience, Pollan became the Bach Cello Suite he was listening to—no longer a distinction between subject and object. Despite this ego dissolution, awareness persists, distinguishing the experience from unconsciousness.
Pollan emphasizes that when the ego is set aside, all dividing walls fall away. People often report merging with something much larger—divinity, the universe, or love—enabling deep connection and unity. At the core is an objective equanimity, a completely impersonal vantage point from which to observe reality.
Andrew Huberman clarifies that although ego dissolution is profound during the psychedelic journey, it doesn't permanently eliminate the ego. Rather, individuals gain insights into their own ego patterns. Pollan shares that after such experiences, he better recognizes when his ego acts defensively, understanding it's only one "voice" among many within himself. This newfound perspective allows conscious observation of the ego's demands without always identifying with them.
Pollan notes that profound ego dissolution isn't exclusive to psychedelics. Meditation can also yield ego transcendence. He describes research by Dacher Keltner showing that awe can reliably shrink one's sense of self—after experiencing awe, people draw themselves much smaller in self-portraits. This ego reduction is associated with greater pro-social behavior and increased capacity for connection with others.
Pollan and Huberman discuss how psychedelics like MDMA and psilocybin show remarkable efficacy in controlled trials for trauma, depression, and end-of-life distress. The FDA is fast-tracking multiple psychedelics, including Ibogaine and MDMA therapy.
However, they emphasize these drugs aren't suitable for everyone. Huberman warns that wider adoption may bring unforeseen risks, particularly regarding addiction and psychosis. People with predispositions to psychosis or certain heart issues should avoid psychedelics entirely. Public education about risks and strict screening protocols are urgently needed.
Humans host vastly more bacterial genes than human genes. Michael Pollan notes we are "super organisms," relying on bacteria to supply essential chemicals like glutamate, GABA, and serotonin. These bacterial products directly shape brain function, calm moods, reduce anxiety, and influence energy and sociability.
The vagus nerve plays a central role: about 80% of its signals travel from the body—including our microbial world—up to the brain. This means microbes send a constant stream of information influencing our brains, moods, and consciousness.
Microbes existed long before humans, evolving strategies to ensure their survival. Pollan and Justin Sonnenberg argue that microbes manipulate human behavior to advance their own interests. They may influence our inclination for social contact—behaviors like handshakes and kisses—helping them travel and proliferate.
This microbial agenda can even shape humanity's ambitious goals. In space travel contexts, bacteria may resist ultra-processed, sterile foods designed for Mars missions, potentially leading to health problems. A conflict can arise: microbial well-being may not always align with human aspirations or happiness.
The relationship between humans and their microbiota is mutual manipulation, not parasitism or dominance. While microbes shape our moods and behaviors, humans also curate their internal microbial communities through intentional choices. Pollan highlights that consuming polyphenol-rich foods—like coffee and tea—nourishes beneficial bacteria.
This two-way interaction forms a complex super-organism where integrating human and bacterial interests benefits both parties. As Pollan concludes, it's "creepy" yet "beautiful" that we are used by life and also take part in using life.
Michael Pollan emphasizes that American agriculture remains dominated by corn and soy production, the foundational ingredients of ultra-processed foods responsible for widespread health issues. Subsidized corn leads to proliferation of high-fructose corn syrup, fueling the diabetes epidemic. The government supports both disease creation—by subsidizing commodities leading to unhealthy foods—and disease treatment, creating a cycle that's both "insane" and costly.
Despite rhetoric about supporting regenerative agriculture, significant policy decisions routinely cut funding for farm-to-school programs and regenerative initiatives, reinforcing the unhealthy status quo.
Pollan advocates for regenerative agriculture, describing it as a "sunlight-based food chain" contrasting with the fossil-fuel-intensive conventional beef production system. Industrially produced beef depends on fossil fuels to grow corn for animal feed, making animals sick and requiring pharmaceutical intervention. Regenerative farming relies on animals grazing grass, with sunlight as the primary energy input, making systems more ecologically resilient and nutritionally beneficial.
Joel Salatin's polyculture grazing exemplifies this approach, demonstrating a working model where rotationally grazing animals improve soil and produce healthier food. Pollan shares an anecdote about surging consumer demand for grass-fed beef, illustrating growing interest in regeneratively-raised food, with consumers willing to travel and pay premiums.
Pollan stresses that consumers alone have limited agency, as industrial food remains cheap due to subsidies while regenerative food is expensive. Policy is a crucial lever; as long as bad food is subsidized, dietary change will be limited. Making healthy food cheaper requires shifting subsidies toward sustainable agriculture.
Achieving such change needs bipartisan cooperation. Pollan points to recent cross-partisan collaborations, such as "maha moms" working alongside activists in Congress who stripped provisions from federal legislation that would have granted pesticide manufacturers immunity from lawsuits. These successes show the potential for unlikely alliances emphasizing shared goals around food quality.
Pollan observes that America lacks a deep native food tradition; in his words, "fast food is really our food." Immigrant foodways have often been eroded, leaving Americans more exposed to corporate marketing and ultra-processed foods.
In other cultures, strong food traditions—like the Mediterranean diet—act as bulwarks against unhealthy corporate influences. Pollan suggests Americans could shift dietary patterns by borrowing established alternatives known to improve health. However, changing eating habits requires more than individual effort: educational initiatives, appealing cultural messaging, and policy change are all needed. Pollan concludes that a holistic approach, integrating grassroots movements, cross-partisan policy action, cultural adaptation, and economic reform, is essential for transforming American food systems toward health and sustainability.
1-Page Summary
Andrew Huberman, a neuroscientist, admits that the topic of consciousness was long considered taboo in his field because it is so hard to define. He asks Michael Pollan if consciousness can be described in a sentence, noting its definition seems elusive—perhaps because everything else is filtered through it. Pollan concurs, stating that the only thing we can be fully certain of is our own consciousness: we know ourselves to be conscious, and everything else is inferred through that experience. Thus, defining consciousness is inherently difficult.
Pollan references philosopher Thomas Nagel’s influential framework, which defines consciousness as requiring subjective experience. Nagel famously asked, “What is it like to be a bat?” and argued that if it feels like something to be a creature, then that creature is conscious. Pollan extends this, noting that while humans have a complex, self-reflective consciousness, the essential core is subjective experience. Human consciousness stands out for incorporating awareness, self-awareness, emotional life, and an ability to reflect and imagine the future. For example, Pollan notes how humans can “time travel” mentally, imagining futures and reflecting on the past—abilities rare or absent in more basic consciousness.
Pollan draws a distinction between sentience and consciousness. Sentience is a foundational awareness—an organism’s capacity to register and respond to environmental changes such as good or bad conditions. He suggests this is widespread, perhaps even universal among living creatures, including plants and single-celled organisms. For example, plants can sense and react to light, and bacteria can detect chemical gradients and differentiate between morning and evening.
Yet, true consciousness as seen in humans layers metacognition, emotion, and future-based imagination onto this basic sentience. Huberman highlights the crucial distinction: while many organisms respond to the environment, human consciousness includes knowing that we know, reflecting upon our own responses, and deeply considering “why.” Pollan agrees and stresses that every species develops its own variety of sentience, driven by its particular body and sensory apparatus—underscoring the error of using the human model as the default standard for all conscious experience.
Pollan observes that many animals’ abilities—such as pit vipers’ detection of infrared radiation or honeybees’ perception of UV—serve to remind us that all conscious experience is filtered through the limitations and capacities of each species’ unique senses.
Pollan and Huberman agree that after extensive study, there is still no consensus on the origin of consciousness. The traditional theory that consciousness is an emergent property arising from brain complexity faces substantial challenges and lacks definitive scientific support. Huberman points out perplexing findings from neuroscience research, such as experiments where rearranging the sequence of neural activity did not alter resulting behaviors. Such results complicate our understanding of how the brain generates experience and challenge the view that complex neural patterns alone suffice.
Pollan describes alternative theories. One proposal is that brains act as receivers, passively detecting an external field of consciousness, much like a TV set tunes into signals rather than generating content itself. This “filter theory” or “receiver theory” implies that consciousness exists outside individuals, and brains limit, or “filter,” the vastness of this external field into the manageable experience needed for survival. Historical figures such as philosopher Henri Bergson and writer Aldous Huxley advocated for this idea.
Panpsychism extends further, suggesting that consciousness is intrinsic to all matter; even particles may bear primitive elements of consciousness, which organize into the complex consciousness of living beings. Another related notion is that consciousness constitutes a field or collective phenomenon in which all living things participate. The neuroscientist Christoph Koch, formerly a leading materialist, now believes—following a powerful psychedelic experience—that consciousness exists outside the brain and is accessed or tuned into by living beings.
Some thinkers posit that quantum physics, with phenomena like entanglement and non-locality, may hold clues about consciousness. However, Pollan admits the evidence connecting quantum effects and brain function remains inconclusive, partly because the brain’s warm, wet environment seems inhospitable for known quantum effects, though future research may yield surprising connections.
A line of research initiated by Antonio Damasio and continued by Mark Solms challenges the view that consciousness arises primarily from cortical (thinking) processes. Instead, it proposes that consciousness originates in the brainstem, rooted in feelings and internal bodily states. The brain’s original, primary function is sustaining life via constant bodily communication—monitoring hunger, temperature, and discomfort. These homeostatic feelings, relayed to the brain mostly by the vagus nerve, are not mediated by thought; rather, feel ...
Consciousness: Defining and Understanding Its Nature
Michael Pollan describes several astonishing demonstrations of plant intelligence. He recounts how a corn plant can navigate a maze to access nutrients, such as ammonium nitrate, by finding the fastest path through unfamiliar challenges, suggesting a type of problem-solving and intelligence not dictated solely by genetics. This ability is not one plants would typically face in the wild but illustrates their capacity for novel problem-solving.
Further, Pollan references the work of biologist Michael Levin, who has shown that evolution produces cognitive beings—like his lab-made xenobots—that solve novel problems using bioelectric fields, indicating that memory and planning can arise outside of genetics and neurons. Levin’s xenobots, constructed from frog skin cells, exhibit learned behaviors, maze navigation, and conditioning without genetic instructions for such tasks.
Plants also demonstrate defense mechanisms indicating more than mere reflex. For example, if they detect the sound vibrations of caterpillars chewing leaves, they dispatch toxins or foul-tasting chemicals to the specific leaf under attack, a targeted response beyond simple preprogrammed reaction.
Pollan points out that plants possess around twenty senses—far surpassing the human set—including sensitivity to gravity, pH, and nutrient gradients. These abilities allow plants to optimize growth and resource uptake with remarkable precision.
He also highlights research showing that Venus flytraps lose their rapid-response trapping ability under anesthetic gas, such as xenon, in ways parallel to how animals lose consciousness under anesthesia. Although Pollan avoids calling this “consciousness” in plants, he suggests anesthesia causes a genuine loss of sentience, hinting that processes underlying human awareness might operate in plants at a fundamental level.
Plants have evolved strategies cleverly designed to manipulate human behavior to their own reproductive advantage. Pollan explains that psychoactive plants, such as cannabis, originated in Western China but now thrive globally because producing THC induced humans to carry and propagate it, creating a symbiotic relationship.
Pollan generalizes this idea: plants have “mastered our desires as their evolutionary strategy,” exploiting the human craving for altered states of consciousness. Coffee and tea plants, for example, evolved caffeine for defense against pests. While caffeine can be lethal to some insects, in humans it tweaks the mind, providing addiction and withdrawal cycles that encourage ongoing cultivation. Since lethal toxins prompt rapid resistance, these more nuanced chemical strategies—such as slightly interfering with or enhancing mental function—turned out to be more effective for plant success.
He also references catnip’s effect on cats, describing it as so powerful that the cat forgets where the source is, exemplifying plant ingenuity. Many psychoactive plant chemicals diminish appetite or change behavior in ways beneficial for plant survival.
Corn, too, became globally dominant by evolving traits desirable to humans, ensuring its mass cultivation and worldwide spread. Both cannabis and corn, through their influences on human culture, demonstrate plant agency: these organisms shape agricultural priorities, global expansion, and even human consciousness by providing something humans deeply desire.
Pollan argues this makes plants—through their “genius at biochemistry”—not passive parts of nature but intelligent players that actively shape human culture, health, and consciousness.
Michael Pollan, drawing on Wendell Berry and experiences in his own life, suggests the relationship between humans and plants—and nature at large—should be more like a marriage than a relationship of domination. He contrasts th ...
Plant Intelligence, Sentience, and Human-Plant Symbiosis
Michael Pollan describes how high doses of psilocybin can dissolve the sense of self so completely that individuals may merge with music, color, or even a sense of universal consciousness, while maintaining clear awareness. In his own experience, Pollan recounts becoming a piece of music—the Bach Cello Suite—where there was no longer a distinction between subject and object. He was not merely listening to the music; he was the music, experiencing a profound beauty beyond normal perception. Despite this ego dissolution, awareness persists, distinguishing the experience from unconsciousness.
Pollan emphasizes that when the ego is set aside, all dividing walls fall away. The ego, he notes, is a defensive structure that separates “me” from “them” or “us” from “others.” With the ego temporarily absent, people often report merging with something much larger—divinity, the universe, love, or even other people—enabling a deep connection and sense of unity. At the core of this state is an objective equanimity, a completely impersonal vantage point from which to observe thoughts, emotions, and reality itself.
Andrew Huberman clarifies that although the experience of ego dissolution is tangible and profound during the psychedelic journey, it does not permanently eliminate the ego. Rather, individuals return to their baseline consciousness, but often gain valuable insights into the workings of their own ego patterns and defense mechanisms. Pollan shares that after such experiences, he is better able to recognize when his ego is acting in self-interested, critical, or defensive ways, understanding that this is only one “voice” among many within himself.
This newfound perspective allows for conscious observation of the ego’s demands and narratives—without the need to always identify with them. The experience often reduces self-interest and helps people notice their own fears, inclinations towards criticism, and defensiveness. Psychedelic journeys offer a kind of portal—one that can be revisited through conscious reflection—for accessing this perspective in everyday life.
Pollan notes that profound ego dissolution is not exclusive to psychedelics. Meditation, though it requires more time and effort, can also yield ego transcendence. He describes research by Dacher Keltner on experiences of awe, showing that awe can reliably shrink one’s sense of self. In one experiment, after experiencing awe—such as river rafting—people would draw themselves much smaller in self-portraits. This ego reduction, whether through psychedelics, meditation, or awe, is associated with greater pro-social behavior, reduced self-centeredness, and a dramatically increased capacity for connection with others.
Psychedelics, Ego Dissolution, and Therapeutic Potential
Humans are home to vastly more bacterial genes than human genes, relying on these microbial partners for fundamental aspects of survival and neurological function. Michael Pollan notes that we are "super organisms," collective beings who depend on bacteria to supply essential chemicals for our health. Instead of manufacturing crucial metabolites ourselves, such as glutamate, GABA, serotonin, and short-chain fatty acids, we have outsourced this biochemical labor to bacteria. These bacterial products are not just metabolic necessities; they directly shape brain function, calm our moods, reduce anxiety, and influence our levels of energy and sociability.
The vagus nerve plays a central role in this crosstalk: about 80% of its signals travel from the body—including the microbial world inside us—up to the brain, with only 15% to 20% making the reverse trip. This means our microbes send a significant and constant stream of information influencing our brains, moods, and consciousness.
Microbes have existed long before humans, evolving strategies to ensure their survival and prosperity. Pollan and Justin Sonnenberg argue that microbes manipulate human behavior to advance their own interests. They may influence our inclination for social contact, encouraging handshakes, kisses, and exchanges of objects—behaviors that help them travel and proliferate. Outgoing social traits benefit their reproduction and dispersal.
This microbial agenda can even shape humanity’s most ambitious goals. For instance, in the context of space travel, bacteria may resist environments that lack food diversity and sanitation, as seen in the ultra-processed, sterile foods designed for Mars missions. Such conditions thwart the microbiota's survival, potentially leading to health problems for the human host. In this way, a conflict can arise: the well-being of our microbial companions may not always align with our aspirations or happiness. Their “interest” is to persist and spread, not necessarily to optimize human comfort or longevity.
The relationship between humans and their microbiota is not simply that of host and parasite o ...
Microbiome: Bacterial Influence on Consciousness and Behavior
Michael Pollan critiques the U.S. food system, exploring how industrial agriculture driven by corn and soy monocultures harms human and ecological health, and contrasts it with the promise of regenerative, grass-based farming. He highlights the influence of policy, the potential of consumer movements, and the importance of cultural food traditions in shaping dietary habits and public health.
Pollan emphasizes that American agriculture remains dominated by the production of corn and soy, the foundational ingredients of ultra-processed foods responsible for widespread health issues. Subsidized corn leads to the proliferation of high-fructose corn syrup and other cheap additives, fueling the diabetes epidemic. The government supports both disease creation—by subsidizing commodities that lead to unhealthy foods—and disease treatment, by funding diabetes medications, creating a cycle that is both “insane” and costly.
Policy makers routinely back the continued growth of corn and soy. These subsidized crops form the backbone of ultra-processed foods, while policies simultaneously restrict the regulation of pesticides, supporting practices that harm both public health and the environment. Despite rhetoric from politicians about supporting regenerative and small-scale agriculture, significant policy decisions, like the “big beautiful bill” referenced by Pollan, routinely cut funding for farm-to-school programs and regenerative initiatives, reinforcing the unhealthy status quo.
Pollan advocates for regenerative agriculture, describing it as a “sunlight-based food chain” in contrast to the fossil-fuel-intensive system of conventional beef production. Industrially produced beef depends on fossil fuels to grow corn for animal feed—grain that makes animals sick, requiring pharmaceutical intervention. Regenerative farming, by contrast, relies on animals grazing grass, with sunlight as the primary energy input, making these systems more ecologically resilient and nutritionally beneficial.
Joel Salatin’s polyculture grazing exemplifies this approach, building sustainable food production and healthy ecosystems. Salatin’s farm, highlighted in Pollan’s “Omnivore’s Dilemma,” demonstrates a working model where animals rotationally graze, improving soil and producing healthier food.
Pollan shares an anecdote about consumer demand, noting a surge in requests for grass-fed beef at a local butcher shop shortly after his influential work was published. This illustrates growing interest in regeneratively-raised food, with consumers willing to travel and pay premiums for such products. These local networks—supported by organizations like Weston Price Society—create market pressure for more sustainable, nutritious food.
Pollan stresses that consumers alone have limited agency, as industrial food remains cheap due to subsidies, while regenerative food is expensive because of higher production costs. Policy is a crucial lever; as long as bad food is subsidized, dietary change will be limited. Making healthy food cheaper requires shifting subsidies and support away from ultraprocessed commodities and toward sustainable agriculture.
Achieving such change needs bipartisan cooperation. Pollan points to recent cross-partisan collaborations—such as “maha moms” (mothers advocating for healthier food for their children, some affiliated with the Weston Price Society) working alongside activists like Shelley Pingree in Congress. Together, they stripped provisions from federal legislation that would have granted pesticide manufacturers immunity from lawsuits. These successes show the potential for unlikely alliances between the left and right, emphasizing reductions in pesticides and improvements in ...
Regenerative Food Systems and Agriculture
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