A few weeks ago, my airplane seatmate and I were pondering aloud the different lives of poor people in America and the rest of the world. Most striking is the dichotomy between “skinny poverty” and “fat poverty.” While most of the world’s poor people suffer from undernutrition, poor Americans are nearly always fat.
I have always attributed this phenomenon to cultural forces. I was thinking about that in Beijing while I explored the hutongs, the traditional alley-based neighborhoods which house many of that city’s poorest people. These people were, without a doubt, impoverished. Most hutong homes lack bathrooms—typically there are communal bathroom facilities on every block. Many are still heated in the winter by smoky coal fires. Despite the conditions, there is a warm, vibrant community thriving in the hutongs. Children run and play in the street. Old men gather around perpetual games of cards and dominoes in front of dusty storefronts. Modest signs of entrepreneurship are evident in the plethora of curbside bicycle repair shops and hole-in-the-wall food vendors. Everywhere this conspicuously foreign traveler explored, he was greeted with a cautious yet friendly smile.
I was mindful of the contrast between the hutongs and the downtown ghettos of Cincinnati where my mother teaches literacy. There, where imposing characters in baggy clothing stand guard on street corners and drug dealers openly count their cash inside the grocery store, I do not feel nearly as comfortable strolling around alone, let alone exploring narrow alleyways with a camera in hand. When I think of the Cincinnati poor, I think of the improbably fat single mothers who tow their children to McDonalds for dinner because they are too lazy (or too inept, or possibly too busy) to cook. Cooking is the only affordable way to eat healthy food in America—healthful prepared food is a luxury priced well beyond the reach of the poor. A simple Caesar salad at most restaurants will set you back $12, or 2-3 hours of work at minimum wage. Why bother when you can get french fries off the dollar menu at Wendy’s?(*)
So as you see, I’ve always suspected social and economic factors behind “fat poverty.” But this week, the New York Times Magazine ran another fantastic piece by Michael Pollan that approaches the problem from another angle: politics.
How is it possible that the Twinkie, made from 39 elaborately-manufactured ingredients, costs less than a carrot? Politics, Pollan argues.
In a Hong Kong subway car, I was amused to spot a government advertisement for “eating healthy.” The ad was a photograph of a lunch plate with neatly-partitioned sections of rice, vegetables, fruit, bread, and a small amount of meat. I wasn’t sure why I was laughing at the time, but now I know: it’s because a US government endorsement of eating “a small amount” of meat would be an improbable triumph of public interest over private politics. We don’t do small amounts of anything here in America, particularly when it might upset the beef lobby. The problem infiltrates American lives starting with our schools, where “a school lunch lady trying to prepare healthful fresh food is apt to get dinged by U.S.D.A. inspectors for failing to serve enough calories; if she dishes up a lunch that includes chicken nuggets and Tater Tots, however, the inspector smiles and the reimbursements flow.” Politics.
I hope that someday the public interest will awaken to the importance of sound food policy. It is relevant to the health and well-being of the entire population. When you factor in the effects of “fat poverty” on the public health-care burden, you can even make a strong economic argument for change.
But, as Mrhe thoughtfully pointed out on his blog the other day, a change this drastic would necessitate a dramatic “focusing event” more, um, galvanizing than the death of Anna Nicole Smith to garner the public spotlight. I can only wonder what that will be.
(*) Obligatory rant: why not pocket the savings to buy a status-boosting iPod or camera phone?
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