Roger Marshall, Kansans know the difference between a cow and an oat | Opinion

You know that oat milk doesn’t come from a cow, right?

Right?

Of course you do. In fact, I feel pretty sure that all but a few misguided souls know that oat milk — or almond milk, or soy milk or whatever plant-based product you choose — is not “milk” in the old-fashioned sense. When I ask the barista for a little oat milk in my morning coffee, it’s precisely because I don’t want dairy.

This isn’t hard.

So maybe it’s just Roger Marshall and a few other farm state senators who are confused.

The Kansas Republican this week announced a new bill to prohibit non-dairy plant-based milks and yogurts from labeling themselves “milk” or “yogurt.”

Why? Because American consumers are apparently dazed and bewildered by the proliferation of non-bovine-secreted beverages in the refrigerated sections of their local grocery stores.

Marshall is here to protect them.

“Misleading labels on non-dairy products, which are often nutritionally inferior, cause confusion and undermine the value of real dairy,” Marshall said in a Wednesday press release. That supposed “mislabeling” does “harm” to dairy farmers “who tirelessly meet rigorous health standards to deliver the most nutritious drink known to man.” The bill, incidentally, is called the DAIRY PRIDE Act. The capital letters signify one of the more exhausting acronyms in recent legislative history: The full title is the “Defending Against Imitations and Replacements of Yogurt, milk, and cheese to Promote Regular Intake of Dairy Everyday Act.” Say a little prayer for the legislative aide or lobbyist who had to come up with that one.

This is all a little silly.

More Americans going hungry

So silly, in fact, you might be wondering why I’m using this space to call out Marshall’s bill. Aren’t there more important things going on in the world?

There are.

Here’s one: A lot of Americans — and maybe a few of Marshall’s Kansas constituents — are likely to go hungry because of President Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill. The law makes big cuts and imposes new eligibility requirements for the SNAP program, which will end up causing an estimated 22.3 million families to lose all or part of their food benefits.

Marshall voted for that bill, by the way.

All those SNAP cuts, incidentally, are going to put an even bigger burden on community food banks that serve underprivileged folks. But those food providers are also struggling, thanks to DOGE-driven cuts to food aid programs earlier this year.

The food banks won’t be able to pick up SNAP’s slack.

With the passage of Trump’s law, “more and more people will go hungry,” Harvester’s Community Food Network says on its website.

Which suggests that Marshall is more interested in policing what Americans call “milk” than whether they can afford to drink it.

‘Greatest drink known to humankind’

Marshall, of course, does a fair amount of ag and dairy industry propagandizing from his Senate perch. Back in 2023, he drank a glass of milk at a Senate Agriculture Committee meeting, proclaiming it “the greatest drink known to mankind, known to humankind.”

Kind of a cringey stunt, but also maybe understandable for the senator to support an industry worth a billion dollars a year to the Kansas economy.

If we’re being charitable, maybe we celebrate Marshall’s new legislation as one of the last vestiges of bipartisanship in Washington. Tammy Baldwin, the Wisconsin Democrat, is the main cosponsor on the bill. Vermont’s Peter Welch, New York’s Kirsten Gillibrand and Minnesota’s Amy Klobuchar are among the other Democrats to sign on.

We take what we can get, I guess.

But mostly, the senator’s anti-oat milk bill seems to exemplify the kind of annoying little rule-making and governmental wrist-slapping that an earlier, better generation of conservative politician might have decried as incipient tyranny.

At worst, then, Marshall’s DAIRY PRIDE Act is mean-spirited and misguided — an insult to the intelligence of American consumers — as well as a waste of energy better directed at real problems.

At best? It’s still kind of cheesy.

Joel Mathis is a regular Kansas City Star and Wichita Eagle Opinion correspondent. He lives in Lawrence.