Siti Muinah
By [Author Name/Food Tank Contributor]
Every autumn, the city of Des Moines, Iowa, transforms into the global epicenter of agricultural discourse. As the host of the World Food Prize and the accompanying Borlaug Dialogues, the city welcomes a convergence of scientists, policymakers, corporate titans, and grassroots advocates. Often heralded as the "Nobel Prize for Food and Agriculture," the event seeks to honor those who have significantly improved the quality, quantity, or availability of food worldwide. Yet, as the global food system faces unprecedented pressure from climate change, conflict, and economic volatility, the conversation in Des Moines is undergoing a necessary, if sometimes uncomfortable, evolution.
The Evolution of a Global Stage
Founded on the vision of Norman Borlaug—the father of the Green Revolution and a Nobel laureate—the World Food Prize has historically focused on the technological and scientific breakthroughs that saved over a billion people from starvation. Borlaug’s legacy, centered on high-yield wheat varieties and intensive agricultural research, remains the bedrock of the Foundation.
However, the modern agricultural landscape is vastly different from the mid-20th century. Today’s challenges require a shift from purely yield-focused metrics toward a "Green Evolution." This concept, championed by figures like Bram Govaerts, Director General of the International Maize and Wheat Improvement Center (CIMMYT), advocates for a more holistic approach: one that places farmers’ livelihoods, soil health, biodiversity, and nutritional density at the center of success.
The Foundation appears to be recognizing this shift. Under the leadership of CEO Tom Vilsack and President Mashal Husain, the Borlaug Dialogues have begun to broaden their scope. The current program features a diverse array of voices, ranging from Nobel Peace Prize laureate Malala Yousafzai to cultural figures like actor and farmer Nick Offerman. This inclusion of non-traditional voices is a signal that the "Big Ag" echo chamber is slowly—if perhaps insufficiently—opening up to the broader realities of global food security.
A Chronology of Conflict and Connection
The author’s journey with the World Food Prize began in the early 2010s, a time when advocates for sustainable agriculture and agroecology were few and far between at the event. For years, the author occupied a unique, often lonely, space: someone who could navigate the corporate-heavy environment of the Borlaug Dialogues one week and the grassroots-focused Organic Trade Association the next.
One particularly telling incident remains etched in memory. While at a hotel bar, the author was approached by two men—one a scientist for a major agrochemical company, the other a leader of a prominent farmers’ organization. What began as an invitation for a drink quickly soured into an interrogation. The two men accused the author of using social media to unfairly target their organizations. When the author clarified that their assumptions were based on misplaced prejudice against "people like me," the conversation stalled.
Yet, this anecdote serves a deeper purpose: it highlights the inherent friction in the food movement. It is a microcosm of the polarized state of global agriculture, where "corporate scientists" and "agroecology advocates" often operate in silos of mutual suspicion. Interestingly, that tense evening eventually thawed into a genuine professional acquaintance—one that even led to the exchange of Christmas cards. It was a stark lesson that preconceived notions often crumble when we actually sit across from those we perceive as ideological adversaries.
Supporting Data: The Urgent Need for Funding
The stakes for these conversations have never been higher. The backdrop of this year’s gathering is a sobering economic reality. According to preliminary data from the Organisation for Economic Co-operation and Development (OECD), official development assistance (ODA) plummeted by 23.1% in 2025 in real terms—the sharpest annual decline on record.
The humanitarian implications are catastrophic. A 2025 study published in The Lancet warns that the sustained reduction in funding for the U.S. Agency for International Development (USAID) could result in more than 14 million additional deaths by 2030, with 4.5 million of those being children under the age of five. Simultaneously, the World Food Program has sounded the alarm: budget shortfalls are pushing approximately 13.7 million people from "crisis" to "emergency" levels of food insecurity, leaving them teetering on the edge of famine.
These numbers serve as a grim reminder that agricultural progress cannot be measured solely by laboratory breakthroughs. It must also be measured by our ability to sustain the most vulnerable populations during times of global economic retrenchment.
Examining the Institutional Power Structure
While the World Food Prize Foundation has expanded its reach, questions regarding its institutional allegiances persist. Historically, the Foundation has received support from agricultural giants including ADM, Cargill, Monsanto (now Bayer), Syngenta, and the John Deere Foundation. While private sector support is often essential for large-scale events, it raises critical questions: Does this funding influence the nature of the conversation? Who is invited to the table, and more importantly, who is excluded?
The 2013 recognition of Monsanto’s former chief technology officer, Robert Fraley, alongside Syngenta’s Mary-Dell Chilton, sparked significant debate regarding the Prize’s definition of innovation. While their contributions to biotechnology are scientifically significant, many critics argue that the Prize should shift its spotlight toward different forms of innovation—such as seed sovereignty, land restoration, and the empowerment of women farmers.
The 2025 laureate, Dutch food safety scientist Huub Lelieveld, is undeniably deserving of recognition for his work in preventing foodborne illness. However, as we look to the future, there is an urgent need to redirect resources and prestige toward leaders in the Global South whose grassroots work often goes unrecognized by high-level international bodies.
Implications: The International Year of the Woman Farmer
The United Nations has designated 2026 as the "International Year of the Woman Farmer," a pivotal moment for global policy. The Borlaug Dialogues are addressing this with the panel "What If Her Harvest Changes Everything?" featuring women producers from Kenya, Ecuador, Germany, and the United States.
While these voices are vital, the absence of women farmers in the upper echelons of the Prize’s winners’ circle remains a point of contention. Why aren’t leaders like Esther Penunia, secretary general of the Asian Farmers’ Association, or Elizabeth Nsimadala, president of the Eastern Africa Farmers Federation, being honored at the highest level? Leaders like Mariam Sow in Senegal, who has spent decades advancing agroecology, represent the very transformation that the food system requires.
The implication is clear: we must ask who we consider an expert. Is expertise defined solely by academic degrees and patents, or does it include the experiential knowledge of the person who has cultivated the land for forty years?
Conclusion: Getting Uncomfortable
If we are to achieve a true transformation of our food systems, we must embrace discomfort. We must attend conferences where we are the minority opinion. We must listen to those who hold diametrically opposed views on technology, regulation, and sustainability.
The World Food Prize remains an essential institution because it is one of the few places where these disparate groups—scientists, corporate executives, activists, and smallholders—actually cross paths. But the institution must continue to evolve. It must grapple with the difficult questions of power, wealth distribution, and the definition of progress.
As we move forward, the goal should not be to reach a state of total agreement, but to reach a state of shared responsibility. We need more than just a seat at the table; we need to change who is invited to sit there, who is allowed to speak, and who is recognized for their contribution to the survival of our species. The conversation in Des Moines is a start, but the real work begins when we leave the hotel bar, return to our respective fields, and start the long, difficult process of building a food system that is truly just, sustainable, and inclusive.
Azzam Bilal Chamdy
Evan Lee Salim
