There are so many things wrong with the way we eat today

November 22, 2024 12:00 p.m.

We live in a time where eating, paradoxically, has never been so stupid and never required so much thought. YouGov recently discovered that two thirds of Britons eat their main meal in front of a screenand many probably ate their lunch while doing something else. We snack on autopilot, barely noticing what passes our lips.

But at the same time, we’ve never been more concerned about our food choices. Each option invites endless questions. How much salt, sugar and fat does it contain? Is it ultra-processed? Was there child labor in the supply chain? Did the animal have a happy life or was it stuck in a squalid hangar 24/7? Will eating it cause a spike in blood sugar, raise my cholesterol, or give me cancer?

These two equal and opposite phenomena are probably linked. It is precisely because eating has become so easy and convenient that our diets have deteriorated, leading us to worry about it more. And one of the reasons it is so abundant and so cheap, by historical standards, is that humans and animals are exploited in its production.

We know that we should eat better, for our health, for the planet and for the other animals that live on it. But too often our response to this is to obsess unhealthily about what is good and what is bad, feeling virtuous when we eat the former and guilty when we eat the latter.

You can see this most clearly in the idea of ​​a “healthy diet”. The perfectly reasonable idea that we should eat whole, healthier foods has morphed into a Manichean distinction between “clean” and “dirty” foods. But such things do not exist. Everything can be consumed in moderation, even things that are toxic if consumed in excess. What matters are eating habits and habits, not the specific things we ingest. Pop a Pop Tart or donut anytime, as long as you don’t each the moment you love.

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This probably seems obvious, but few of us are immune to the narcissism of personal purity that has seeped into our culture and damaged our relationship with food. The purity part comes from the simplistic division of foods into good or bad, while narcissism is the exclusive focus on our own personal choices.

This form of narcissism is most evident in people who seem to think they have the right to have all of their personal dietary preferences met at all times. Of course, those with genuine medical needs have every right to refuse hospitality that could see them cowering in pain or in hospital. But for the sake of sociability, we should be willing to accept that our hosts do not share our values ​​and that what they kindly offer us is not verboten because it contains an ingredient that we would never allow into our homes. own homes, or usually in our homes. our stomachs. The cause of animal rights is not served by refusing a gelatin pudding. It might even set him back, supporting the stereotype of vegetarians as uptight, self-righteous killjoys.

This isn’t the only way to make food morality too personal. Almost everything said about ethical eating is about what you, as a consumer, should buy and where. The implication is that if only everyone shopped locally, bought organic and Fairtrade certified food, and avoided factory-farmed meat, our food system would be perfect and we would all be happier and healthier.

This is not entirely wrong, but it turns a political and social issue into a simple consumer issue, which is very convenient for business and government.

If, on the contrary, we realized that the roots of our problems lie in the system that produces our food and not with what we personally buy, we would push the main players in this system to do better. So while I should choose free-range chicken over factory-farmed chicken, no one should be able to raise poultry that is treated inhumanely in the first place. Likewise, whether a farmer gets a fair price for his coffee or cocoa should not depend on conscientious buyers choosing one brand over another.

There are so many things wrong with the way we eat today. But even though we think the solution lies in our individual choices, we ignore the fact that our problems are systemic. We we must stop approaching food issues from the point of view of the egocentric consumer and recognize that our greatest challenges are social and political, not personal.

This week I have been…

Tour… Middle-class authors like me don’t usually go on ‘book tours’, but I think three consecutive evenings of lectures in the central belt of Scotland counts as one. I have been hugely encouraged by the engagement of the humanists in the Glasgow pub and by the audiences at the wonderful Topping and Co bookstores in St Andrews and Edinburgh. People are extremely interested in where their food comes from and in Scotland they are very proud of their excellent produce, but they are also concerned about farmed salmon, poor diets and food poverty. This journey made me dare to believe that my book could speak to many more readers than those who have yet found it.

Playing… Tennis. I find meditation tedious, but luckily I can practice mindfulness in more interesting ways in the field. Instead of constantly trying to focus on my breathing, the challenge is to bring it back to the ball, eliminating any distracting thoughts about the score, what’s happening at home, or what I’m going to drink next. We assume that mindfulness should involve slow breathing and no physical activity, but there is a long tradition in Buddhism that all activity is seen as an opportunity to focus the mind, from chopping wood to cooking. Zen tennis could catch on.

Eat… Too much writing about food issues ignores the fact that pleasure is an important part of eating. I don’t have luxury tastes but I am lucky to have access to excellent neighborhood restaurants, delicious local pastry chefs and quality ingredients for good home cooking every day. The lockdowns and Russia’s total invasion of Ukraine have made me more aware than ever of the fragility of our access to these good things of daily life. One day they might just be memories of better days, so I try to savor them and not take anything for granted.

How the World Eats: A Global Food Philosophy by Julian Baggini is published by Granta (£25)