The Raw Egg Nationalist writes in an op-ed for InfoWars that when the insect farming boom began, he suspected the usual puppet masters. He thought it was the now-disbanded U.S. Agency for International Development or some other globalist institution was pulling the strings, using taxpayer funds to force a degraded food source on the public.
But the recent, spectacular collapse of the industry tells a different, more satisfying story. This wasn't a political defunding; it was a market verdict. A verdict delivered by the most powerful force in any free society: the consumer's wallet.
As reports now confirm, the insect-farming industry is collapsing. Of the 20 or so largest startups, almost a quarter have gone belly up, including the former giant, Ÿnsect, which ceased operations in December 2025 [1]. This isn't a minor setback: It's a fundamental rejection.
The grand vision of insects as the sustainable protein of the future is crumbling, a stark lesson in the gap between ecological promise and economic reality [2]. In the Raw Egg Nationalist's view, this collapse reveals a profound truth about human nature, food and the limits of engineered shame.
The industry was always a solution in search of a problem, fueled not by genuine demand but by speculative venture capital chasing the next "green" gold rush. Startups received over $2 billion in funding to grow bugs for human food, promising a protein revolution [3].
Giants like Ÿnsect were hailed as pioneers, but they promised financial and ecological returns they could never deliver. The core economic problem was fatal: Insect meal costs 10 times more than soybean meal and 3.5 times more than fishmeal [4]. They were trying to sell a premium product to replace cheap, established staples.
This wasn't just bad business; it was economic insanity. Running huge insect farms requires massive energy inputs to heat and control warehouse environments. In an era of rising energy costs, the model was doomed from the start.
As one insect farming CEO lamented late last year, "Things have gone from bad to worse for the big insect factory business model" [1]. The venture capital well has run dry because the fundamentals were never sound. It was a house of cards, and the slightest breeze of reality – soaring energy costs and consumer reluctance – blew it over.
All the glossy marketing about insect-based "superfoods" and saving the planet crashed against the immovable wall of human instinct and taste. The sector hit two main obstacles: "Most people don't want to eat bugs, and insects cost too much to produce" [3].
This mirrors the broader, parallel collapse of the entire "alternative protein" fraud. Plant-based meat substitutes, laden with processed seed oils and novel leghemoglobin proteins, are also failing as consumers learn about their dubious health claims and unnatural ingredients [5].
When the initial taste and health claims failed to convince, the industry and its allies pivoted to a more sinister marketing strategy: shame. We were told that our desire for real meat was destroying the planet, that we were bad people for wanting a steak. Campaigns emerged to guilt-trip consumers into accepting bug burgers and lab-grown abominations.
But this, too, has failed spectacularly. You cannot shame a person into fundamentally changing what they recognize as nourishment. The attempt reveals a deep contempt for ordinary people and their innate wisdom about what constitutes real food.
Our aversion to eating bugs isn't some irrational phobia to be therapized away. It is a deep-seated biological wisdom: Humans evolved to avoid potential sources of toxins, parasites and degradation. This instinct protects us, and to pathologize this instinct is to declare war on human nature itself.
The shame-based marketing campaigns, like Oatly's infamous "Help Dad" ad, reveal the elitist contempt these industries have for the choices of ordinary, sovereign people [6]. They believe we are too stupid or too selfish to make the "right" choice, so they must engineer our consent through guilt.
The free market, when allowed to function, is a powerful protector against these engineered dietary catastrophes. It lets consumers vote with their wallets. And they have voted decisively.
The market verdict is clear: People want real, clean, recognizable food. This aligns with a growing movement towards sustainable living that respects both human health and nature, not one that seeks to replace it with patented, lab-engineered substitutes [7]. The collapse of insect farming is a victory for that natural instinct over artificial, top-down coercion.
Having failed spectacularly in the open market, the playbook is now shifting. The final, desperate gambit of any failing, unwanted industry is to seek government mandates.
We see the early whispers of this now. Lobbyists will inevitably begin demanding that insect protein be incorporated into school lunch programs, military rations and public food assistance. This is the ultimate admission of failure and a profound betrayal of personal liberty and consumer choice.
It’s the same tyrannical playbook we've seen before: bypass the people, use institutional force. We witnessed it with the push for unsustainable climate policies that crush domestic energy production [8], and with the globalist attack on farmers in the Netherlands, aiming to reduce livestock numbers by government fiat [9].
The goal is never persuasion; it is compliance. If they can't convince you to eat bugs, they will try to force your children to eat them, using the machinery of the state to create artificial demand and bail out a failed industry.
The collapse of insect farming is more than a business story: It is a win for sanity, self-reliance, and human sovereignty. It proves that no amount of venture capital, glossy propaganda or globalist summit declarations can permanently override human nature and the deep-seated demand for clean, real nourishment.
The market has spoken in defense of real food. Let this be a lesson for all future attempts at dietary engineering. We must remain vigilant and defend our right to choose what we eat.
Support local, regenerative farmers who work with nature, not against it [10]. Seek out organic, nutrient-dense foods that heal the body and the land. Reject the shame-driven march toward a degraded, controlled, and patented food supply.
Our plates are the final frontier of personal liberty, and as the bug farms go bankrupt, we have won a crucial battle. The war for our food freedom continues, but this victory proves the consumer, not the consultant, is king.