Too Expensive or Too Cheap? Critiquing ‘Fake Meat Drives Out Real Meat’

Foodthink Says

“Fake Meat” Drives Out Real Meat has drawn considerable attention. I suspect this is because different readers take away different meanings from it. Broadly speaking, three main threads emerge:

The first thread is that yak prices are simply too low.

Although rearing livestock on natural pastures keeps feeding costs relatively low, it remains highly vulnerable to the underpricing of imported beef. In recent years, herders have found it increasingly difficult to sell their yaks at a reasonable price, placing their livelihoods under strain.

In my view, to clarify this issue, we first need to establish what is actually happening: have the prices for grass-fed yaks genuinely fallen, or have the herders’ production costs risen? Or is it that rising living costs have increased their cash outgoings, leaving income from yak sales unable to cover these expenses, which merely creates the illusion that yak prices have dropped?

Some argue that solving the herders’ livelihood crisis hinges on selling yak meat at a premium, backed by marketing copy along the lines of “grazes on caterpillar fungus, drinks mineral water, and excretes traditional Chinese medicine,” on the assumption that this would boost their income.

But if we examine the underlying logic, the real audience for this narrative isn’t the herders—it’s the market. Put another way, if beef and mutton are genuinely priced at a premium, can local herders still afford to buy them? Quite the opposite: such high costs could easily price them out completely.

Take caterpillar fungus as an example. Two or three decades ago, it was so commonplace in Tibetan regions that people would casually pick it up and chew on it. But with market prices now soaring to 200,000 yuan per *jin*, would the herders who forage for it still feel able to eat it themselves?

This leads us to the article’s second thread: as marketisation advances, rising prices for local grass-fed beef have left local herders unable to afford high-priced grass-fed yak meat.

To tell this story more fully, we must examine what drives the cost of grass-fed yak meat: is it falling output, rising production costs, or deliberate market manipulation? Or, relative to meat prices, are local incomes simply too low?

We must also press the question: who can no longer afford grass-fed beef? If herders in urban areas are priced out, who ultimately consumes this beef?

The third line of reasoning presented by the authors is that middlemen manipulate the market, creating a paradox where live yak prices fall while yak meat prices rise.

For readers to grasp this dynamic, a clearer understanding of the market mechanisms governing yak and grass-fed beef is needed, as well as the nature of the relationship between producers and middlemen.

We can also discern the grand narrative of capitalist monopoly within this story: capitalism, wielding its capital, technological, and market advantages, dismantles local economies to secure a monopoly foothold.

Viewed through a capitalist lens, the assertion that “herders are naturally meant to consume the meat they produce” is untenable. Within a marketised system, we generally do not consume our own output; rather, we trade our comparative advantages for those of others.

The market logic lies precisely in not consuming one’s own produce—a reality that indeed sounds stark. Put another way, strict adherence to market logic would leave herders unable to access local pasture-fed meat.

From a sociological perspective, the transformation of beef and mutton from daily necessities into luxury goods—rendering them unaffordable for ordinary herders who have relocated to the city—constitutes a form of “disembedding” driven by marketisation.

Yet, beyond the dictates of the market, do alternative logics exist?

For generations, beef and mutton have served herders not merely as a source of life-sustaining protein and calories, but as vessels for a complex tapestry of meanings spanning flavour, culture, and heritage. Consequently, their value should not be governed solely by market logic, but should return to the framework of rural community life.

Perhaps the more pressing question is how to “re-embed” beef and mutton into traditional pastoral societies, and how to strike a balance between market principles and the rhythms of rural communities. This is, without doubt, a thorny issue.

We can also discern the contrasts between younger and older herders, as well as those who have remained on the pastures and those who have relocated to urban areas. Ultimately, by drawing on the reader’s imagination, the article reveals a wealth of stories, alongside further threads and underlying logic that invite deeper reflection.