Real Food Real Facts

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In recent decades, many members of the public have come to see processed food
BILTEKOFF
as a problem that needs to be solved by eating “real” food and reforming the food
system. But for many food industry professionals, the problem is not processed
food or the food system itself, but misperceptions and irrational fears caused by
the public’s lack of scientific understanding. In her highly original book, Charlotte
Biltekoff explores the role that science and scientific authority play in food indus-
try responses to consumer concerns about what we eat and how it is made. As
Biltekoff documents, industry efforts to correct public misperceptions through
science-based education have consistently misunderstood the public’s concerns,
REAL FOOD, REAL FACTS

which she argues are an expression of politics. This has entrenched “food sci-
entism” in public discourse and seeded a form of antipolitics, with broad conse-
quences. Real Food, Real Facts offers lessons that extend well beyond food choice
and will appeal to readers interested in how everyday people come to accept or
reject scientific authority in matters of personal health and well-being.
“In this brilliant book, Charlotte Biltekoff deftly examines unexplored

dimensions of the food wars and ultimately offers more nuanced

thinking about science as the ultimate arbiter of fundamentally
political decisions—a difficult but necessary challenge in a ‘post-
truth’ world.”—Julie Guthman, author of The Problem with Solutions
“This is critical reading for scholars, consumers, and food industry

professionals alike.”—Anna Zeide, author of Canned PROCESSED FOOD AND THE POLITICS OF KNOWLEDGE
“In lucid, accessible prose, Biltekoff employs the frames of Real CHARLOTTE BILTEKOFF
Facts and Real Food to understand the twenty-first-century land-
scape of American food.”—Amy Bentley, Professor of Food Stud-
THE POLITICS OF KNOWLEDGE
PROCESSED FOOD AND
ies, New York University
Charlotte Biltekoff is Professor of American Studies and Food

Science and Technology and Darrell Corti Endowed Professor in
Food, Wine, and Culture, University of California, Davis. She is
author of Eating Right in America: The Cultural Politics of Food
and Health.
AN AHMANSON FOUNDATION BOOK IN HUMANITIES
U NIVERSIT Y OF CALIFORNIA PRES S | WWW.UCPRES S .EDU
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Real Food, Real Facts
The publisher and the University of California Press Foundation
gratefully acknowledge the generous support of the Ahmanson
Foundation Endowment Fund in Humanities.

Real Food, Real Facts
Processed Food and the Politics
of Knowledge
Charlotte Biltekoff
universit y of califor nia pr ess

University of California Press
Oakland, California
© 2024 by Charlotte Biltekoff
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons (CC

BY-NC-ND) license. To view a copy of the license, visit
http://creativecommons.org/licenses.
Suggested citation: Biltekoff, C. Real Food, Real Facts:

Processed Food and the Politics of Knowledge. Oakland:
University of California Press, 2024. DOI: https://doi.org
/10.1525/luminos.198
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Biltekoff, Charlotte, author.

Title: Real food, real facts : processed food and the
politics of knowledge / Charlotte Biltekoff.
Description: Oakland, California : University of
California Press, [2024] | Includes bibliographical
references and index.
Identifiers: LCCN 2023054091 (print) | LCCN 2023054092
(ebook) | ISBN 9780520400979 (paperback) |
ISBN 9780520400986 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Processed foods—Political aspects. |
Processed foods—Health aspects. | Food industry
and trade. | Food consumption.
Classification: LCC TP370 .B495 2024 (print) |
LCC TP370 (ebook) | DDC 664—dc23/eng/20240206
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023054091

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov
/2023054092
33 32 31 30 29 28 27 26 25 24
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
CONTENTS
Introduction: Seeing Food Scientism

1
1. How Good Food Became “Real”

32
2. Real Food and Real Facts in the Classroom

63
3. Fighting for “Natural”

104
4. The Paradoxes of Transparency

144
Conclusion: Future Food Imaginaries of the Public

180
Acknowledgments 195
Notes 201
Bibliography 235
Index 255
Introduction
Seeing Food Scientism
In February 2014 I was invited to be a lunchtime speaker at the Cal-

ifornia League of Food Processors annual Food Processing Expo
at the Sacramento Convention Center. The email flyer promoting
my talk also advertised a breakfast talk by David Schmidt, pres-
ident of the International Food Information Council (IFIC), about
consumer opinions of processed food and what the industry could
do to improve them. Intrigued, I attended the talk. Schmidt began
by addressing the tough times food processors in California were
facing because of the ongoing drought. He wished it was the
only problem facing the processed food industry, but there was
another major concern that he wanted to address: m
isinformation
and falsehoods about the processed food industry. He explained
that IFIC, which describes itself as “a nonprofit educational orga-
nization with a mission to effectively communicate science-based
information about health, nutrition, food safety and agriculture,”
had been conducting research on consumer perceptions of pro-
cessed food since 2008 and had found “a pretty negative envi-
ronment.” The research suggested that across all demographics
1
2 / Introduction
there were high levels of negative a

ssociation with processed
food; 43 percent of consumers reported an unfavorable opinion
of processed food, and only about 18 percent were willing to say
they were positive. Furthermore, negative p
erceptions weren’t
just being driven by the media; they seemed to be coming from
all information sources. Schmidt also noted that there seemed
to be no one talking about the benefits of processed foods. Many
IFIC members were even promoting their processed products
as “natural.”1
The rest of Schmidt’s talk discussed IFIC’s efforts to do some-
thing about this negative environment for processed food. The
organization started by publishing a white paper reviewing
the scientific basis for food processing and processed food
with the Institute of Food Technologists (IFT), a professional soci-
ety representing food science and technology. Building on this,
IFIC developed “consumer friendly messaging platforms” and put
together an “Understanding Our Food Communications Tool Kit”
for communicators and opinion leaders in agriculture, food, and
nutrition. Because agricultural biotechnology had become such a
“heated issue,” IFIC also put together a “Food Biotechnology” com-
municator’s guide that included a chapter titled “Words to Use
and Words to Lose.” The last initiative Schmidt talked about was
the Alliance to Feed the Future, a new organization established
by IFIC to “provide a balanced public dialogue about how mod-
ern agricultural technology innovation and food production ben-
efits society.” The Alliance already had 118 members, including
the Northern California League of Food Processors, and Schmidt
talked about the success of its first initiative. Responding to “very
misleading perceptions of food and agriculture” in the movie
Food, Inc. and a “multi-million-dollar curriculum being shared
in schools right now to further communicate this information,”
Introduction / 3
the Alliance put together its own educational curriculum for

grades K–8, which had already reached 750,000 teachers and 4.5
million students.2
Captivated by what I heard that morning, I started to wonder
what was really going on with processed food. I didn’t need IFIC’s
research to tell me that perceptions of processed food had become
very negative. That was obvious. The question of whether pro-
cessed food was good or bad seemed an impossibly fraught one,
not least because it wasn’t even clear what “processed food” was.
On one extreme, critics suggested that all processed food was bad
and should be avoided, advice that was impossible to follow since
it was never clear where the line was between processed and
unprocessed food. On the other extreme, advocates argued that
all food was processed, so attacking processed food was nonsense;
even organic spinach had been washed, and many staples beloved
by real food proponents (e.g., canned tomatoes, olive oil, coffee)
were processed foods. But Schmidt’s talk suggested that the fric-
tion over processed food was about more than whether it was
good or bad to eat and that it had something to do with the status
of scientific knowledge and expertise.
From my perspective, grounded in food studies, negative per-
ceptions of processed food expressed and encompassed a whole
range of concerns about the industrial food system, having to
do with health, safety, sustainability, and more. But IFIC seemed
to think that public concerns about processed food stemmed
from scientific ignorance and could be addressed with the facts
about food production and processing. The introduction to IFIC’s
“Understanding Our Food Communications Tool Kit,” for exam-
ple, explained that while many people are concerned about
food processing, “some views result from lack of awareness
about these processes and foods.” The goals of the tool kit were
4 / Introduction
to “communicate facts about modern food production,” “clear up

misinformation about processed food,” and “guide consumers
and clients to make the best food choices for health and lifestyle.”3
The “Food Biotechnology” communicator’s guide described con-
sumer opinions as “based on emotion” and began with a large
graphic advising readers to “communicate the facts clearly and
concisely.”4 In 2014 IFIC launched the FACTS (Food Advocates
Communicating through Science) Network to “combat the grow-
ing tide of deceptive advice, misleading statistics, and alarmist
tactics that define much of today’s food and nutrition dialogue.”5
The next year, the FACTS Network published a three-part series in
the spirit of National Geographic’s “War on Science” series called
the “War on ‘Food’ Science,” each piece featuring experts shar-
ing the science on “commonly miscommunicated topics” such as
weight loss, BPA (bisphenol-A), and artificial sweeteners.6
Because I have a joint faculty appointment in my home field
of American Studies and in the Department of Food Science and
Technology at UC Davis, I frequently encountered the idea that
public perceptions of processed food were based in irrational
fears and lack of scientific understanding. I saw it in the pages
of the food industry magazines that arrived in my campus mail-
box, the emails I received about educational programing from
IFT, the sessions I attended at IFT’s annual meetings, and at con-
ferences and talks I attended on my own campus. Eventually I
decided to try to make sense of all this. This book, which is the
result of that effort, focuses on the knowledge politics that are at
the heart of the friction between the food industry and the pub-
lic when it comes to processed food. I push back against the food
industry’s framing of consumer aversion to processed food as
based in lack of scientific literacy and its framing of the processed
food controversy as a conflict between science on one side and
Introduction / 5
antiscience on the other. Instead, I ask what the processed food

controversy can tell us about the role of scientific authority in the
relationship between the food industry and the public.
My real concerns have to do with how the food industry’s
deployment of scientific authority limits the potential for mean-
ingful contestation over the trajectory of the food system, and I
make two central claims about this. I argue that in responding
to growing concerns about processed food among both activists
and the public in the early decades of the twenty-first century, the
food industry leveraged scientific authority to claim and main-
tain the power to define the questions that mattered and the con-
versations that were reasonable to have about the food system. I
also argue that the food industry imagined and projected the pub-
lic as lacking the skills and capacities to engage with science and
technology or its governance. Doing so has helped justify not tak-
ing public concerns about the food system seriously.
During the early years of the twenty-first century, ideas about
good food were transformed by growing awareness of health,
environmental, social, economic, animal welfare, and other
effects of industrial food production, giving rise to changes in
individual behavior and a range of well-documented consumer
and social movements related to food.7 I move questions about
science and technology to the center of our understanding of the
politics of food at this time not only because the food industry
marshaled scientific authority in its own defense but also because
concerns about science and technology and its governance cut
across these movements. Movements promoting organics and
farmers’ markets, combating obesity, reforming animal agricul-
ture, resisting biotechnology, fighting for food safety, and more
took up questions about the uses of technology in food production
as well as the role of scientific authority in the food system. At the
6 / Introduction
same time, these movements were shaped by doubts about the

capacity of experts to understand and respond to public concerns
about these uses of technology and science and scientific author-
ity.8 Scholarship addressing the role of science in the friction
between the food industry and the public has largely focused on
how organizations representing the food industry, such as IFIC,
have thwarted effective science communication, emphasizing the
potential public health consequences of its manipulation of infor-
mation about food and health.9 While this work is important, it
focuses on knowledge, or what people know about food and the
potential health impacts of particular foods. I contend that it is
crucial to also understand the role of knowledge politics, or how
scientific authority has been both contested by the public and lev-
eraged by the food industry.
PROCESSED FOOD FR AMES
My analysis revolves around how different actors in the food sys-

tem understood and addressed the problem with processed food
differently. For food industry representatives, the problem with
processed food was that the public had negative attitudes about
it because of misinformation and misperceptions. They were
concerned that such attitudes were affecting purchasing behav-
ior, leading to the “deselection” of processed products, in addi-
tion to overall negative perceptions of the food industry. But for
many others, the problem was with processed food itself. Among
those concerned with public health, processed food was a prob-
lem because its poor nutritional composition (too much salt,
sugar, and fat) combined with its ubiquity seemed to be causing
population-wide health problems such as obesity, diabetes, and
cardiovascular disease.10 Another set of activists and activated
Introduction / 7
consumers considered processed food the troubling product of a

troubled food system—detrimental not only because of popula-
tion- or individual-level health effects but also because of its cen-
tral place in an industrial food system that was responsible for a
litany of environmental, social, economic, and other ills.11 Among
consumers and activists concerned about regulatory laxity and
risks related to food production technologies, such as synthetic
additives, processed food was considered dangerous because
some ingredients were a threat to the short- and long-term health
of individuals.12
The processed food controversy was, in other words, a fram-
ing contest, a competition over credibility, authority, and influ-
ence between different frames or different ways of seeing the
same thing, leading to different courses of action.13 The frame I
call “Real Food” led to calls to avoid processed food and reform
the food system. The frame I call “Real Facts” responded with edu-
cation and communication designed to address a lack of scientific
literacy among the public. But these frames represent more than
just ways of thinking about processed food, and though they may
appear to compete over correct or incorrect knowledge, my inter-
est lies in looking beyond this.
The Real Food and Real Facts frames resemble the “contending
lifeworlds” that Rachel Schurman and William Munro, authors of
Fighting for the Future of Food, identified among agribusinesses
and activists fighting over biotechnology at the turn of the twenty-
first century. They describe contending lifeworlds as compris-
ing shared social circles and intellectual communities as well as
shared mental worlds, or taken for granted beliefs, judgments,
and assumptions. As they point out, shared lifeworlds generate and
naturalize “certain broad visions of the world, as well as inter-
pretations of specific phenomena.”14 Different understandings
8 / Introduction
of science and its role were important components of these con-

tending lifeworlds. Those promoting biotechnology believed in
“the fundamentally positive nature of science,” and they were
invested in the idea that “a scientific perspective, which relied on
‘hard facts,’ and empirical evidence rather than on religion, value
judgements or emotion, was quintessentially rational.” They also
assumed that the public was unable to meaningfully participate
in the debate about genetic engineering because it lacked basic
scientific knowledge.15 In contrast, the lifeworld shared by activ-
ists centered a shared grievance against agricultural biotechnol-
ogy that was shaped by concerns about health and environmental
impacts as well as power and inequality in the global food system,
including the privatization of “the ‘basic building blocks of life’”
and “the use of science for private gain rather than public good.”16
It was bound by shared moral outrage and a commitment to doing
something about the new technologies.17
Competing processed food frames also resonate with the com-
peting paradigms Tim Lang and Michael Heasman discuss in
their “food wars thesis.” They describe a paradigm as “a way of
thinking, a set of assumptions from which new knowledge is gen-
erated, a way of seeing the world which shapes intellectual beliefs
and actions.” Food paradigms are “a set of shared understandings,
common rules and ways of conceiving problems and solutions
about food.”18 Lang and Heasman explain that a productionist
paradigm oriented toward producing more food dominated food
policy throughout much of the twentieth century and that as it
wanes two paradigms compete to replace it. The “life-science inte-
grated paradigm” and the “ecologically integrated paradigm” not
only rely on different sciences (biotechnology in the former and
agroecology in the latter) but also are driven by different under-
standings of the role of food in the relationship between humans
Introduction / 9
and the environment (mechanistic vs. holistic) and the role of

knowledge in food policy (top down and expert led vs. knowledge
as empowerment).19 Though I use the term “frames” to highlight
that Real Food and Real Facts are different ways of seeing the
same thing, I am interested in the fullness of values, culture, and
knowledge politics informing competing approaches to the food
system that are captured in these complementary discussions of
“lifeworlds” and “paradigms.”20
In identifying and analyzing the processed food controversy as
a framing contest between Real Food and Real Facts, my intention
is to highlight how these different ways of thinking about and
acting in relation to processed food are linked to struggles over
authority—not just right or wrong knowledge, but the kinds of
questions and expertise that matter when it comes to food, health,
and the food system. Decades ago, in her President’s Address to
the Society for Nutrition Education, the celebrated nutritionist,
educator, author, and gardener Joan Dye Gussow made a com-
pelling case for paying attention to how certain questions about
food came to matter. Gussow argued that while conflicts over pro-
cessed food and the industrial food system may appear to be about
data, or what is true, they are actually about what the facts mean
and what should be done with them. She went on to explain that
these are questions that research cannot answer: “Only when we
keep the whole system in mind and decide which arrangements
of the relevant facts make the most sense, only then can we decide
which facts about any isolated piece of the system are relevant,
and in that sense ‘true.’”21
As in the lifeworlds, paradigms, and frames discussed above,
Gussow argued that the really important issues have to do with
which questions about the food system are deemed worth asking.
What questions people consider worth asking, she argued, tends
10 / Introduction
to be shaped by the views they start out with. To use her exam-
ple, when faced with the same information about fiber, health,
and the effects of processing on food (i.e., fiber is important to
health, and processing removes fiber), whether someone deems
it important to ask, “In what form should we be fortifying food
with fiber?,” or “In what ways should we be modifying our pro-
cessing methods so as to retain more fiber in food?,” has every-
thing to do with assumptions they already have about the aims
and trajectory of the food system. Those asking the first question
assume the food system will continue to pursue greater efficien-
cies through processing, while those asking the second assume
that this trajectory cannot continue because of growing pressures
on food production and the wastefulness of taking things out of
food only to then put them back in. In other words, whether par-
ticular questions about food are deemed worth asking is shaped
not by data—or questions research can answer—but by frames,
worldviews, and paradigms.22
THE PUBLIC UNDERSTANDING OF SCIENCE FLIP
While this book explores the dynamics of the contest between

the Real Food and Real Facts frames, the analysis is not symmet-
rical. This is not a comparative analysis of competing frames but
an exploration of how Real Facts emerged in response to Real
Food, how it framed the issues, what kinds of knowledge as well
as social and political values and commitments these framings
embodied, and their effects.23 The Real Facts frame was centrally
shaped by the deficit model of the public understanding of science,
reflecting a dominant cultural narrative in which public skepti-
cism about science and technology was believed to be caused by a
lack, or deficit, of scientific knowledge or understanding. Despite
research arguing that public concerns about technology are not
Introduction / 11
caused by ignorance and showing that more information does not

necessarily lead to greater acceptance, the assumption has per-
sisted that if the public understood science better, it would accept
and celebrate the role technology plays in food production rather
than question it.24 The questions I ask go against the grain of these
assumptions and the questions that are normally asked about
science and publics.
Rather than look at the public’s understanding of science, I
explore how food industry actors understood the public, espe-
cially vis-à-vis their relationship to science. I think of this move
as the “public understanding of science flip,” and it builds on the
work of scholars in Science and Technology Studies (STS) who
have made the case for the importance of understanding “scien-
tific” representations of the public. As the sociologist of science
Brian Wynne has famously argued, such representations are
themselves often based on misunderstandings that cause more,
not less, alienation among the public.25 Importantly, the pub-
lic understanding of science flip reframes the problem of public
mistrust in science as a problem of how the public is imagined
by science. In this case, that means reframing the problem Real
Facts proponents are facing in the midst of the processed food
controversy from an ill-informed and even “antiscience” public to
how they themselves imagine and interact with the public.26 Tak-
ing inspiration from Claire Marris’s work on synthetic biology,
through this flip I hope to open the taken for granted expectations
and “tacit normative commitments” embedded in the Real Facts
frame to both understanding and appraisal.27
A central insight of the book is that food industry actors
expanded and entrenched “food scientism,” evoking and deploy-
ing scientific authority to assert and justify their own normative
commitments, including commercial interests in the processed
products of the industrial food system. Scientism describes
12 / Introduction
claims and assumptions about the primacy of scientific ways of

knowing. It includes the assumption that the only questions that
matter are those that can be understood through science as well
as the use of references to science or scientific authority to frame
assertions of values as beyond reproach, debate, or even dia-
logue.28 Another form of scientism has to do with “using science
as a source of authority in ways that extend beyond scientific and
technical domains.”29 Wynne describes a shift in the role of sci-
ence, especially since the 1950s, from informing to defining pol-
icy issues.30 Writing with Ian Welsh, Wynne notes that this type
of scientism “generates contestation and confusion as the norma-
tive commitments built into references to science are presented
as if they involve no normative choices, only the findings and
declarative authority of science. When others question the nor-
mative commitments authorized by science in this way, they are
then deemed to be anti-science.”31 As this description suggests,
scientism goes hand in hand with the deficit model of the public
understanding of science. In the case of the processed food contro-
versy, the Real Facts frame’s assumption of scientized authority
goes hand in hand with its imagined and projected perception of
the public as lacking knowledge and understanding of the science
and technology involved in food production.
As Wynne argues, a deficit model of the public understand-
ing of science is “almost preordained” as a function of scientis-
tic assumptions about the nature of the issues at hand. Critics of
the deficit model take for granted that deficits of information and
understanding exist but reject the assumption that deficits explain
public skepticism about or opposition to projects that, they point
out, are justified in the name of science but based on unacknowl-
edged value commitments.32 While his and others’ critiques of the
deficit model of the public understanding of s cience have become
widely accepted, Wynne observes that deficit thinking refuses
Introduction / 13
to die. He describes the deficit model as constantly “buried with

great self-congratulatory ceremony, then almost in the same
breath reincarnated in some new form.”33 He lists a repertoire of
ten public deficit models for the mistrust of science that have been
“abandoned, but reinvented” since the 1990s. These include “pub-
lic ‘deficit’ of understanding of scientific knowledge,” which pre-
sumes that the public mistrusts science because it doesn’t know
the facts; “public ‘deficit’ of trust in science,” which is presumed to
be correctable by more transparency and explanation; and “pub-
lic ‘deficit’ of knowledge of the benefits of ‘science,’” for example,
genetically modified crops will “help feed the global starving.” All
models were accompanied by what Wynne describes as an under-
lying assumption that public responses are emotional, “epistemo-
logically empty,” and susceptible to misinformation. 34 Building
on Wynne’s observations, I argue that deficit thinking is central
to the Real Facts frame and track how the deficit model of the pub-
lic understanding of science has both evolved and remained resil-
ient within the food industry’s imaginary of the public. Chapter 4
looks specifically at how deficit thinking persisted even in the
face of the industry’s own growing concerns about the limits of
a scientized, deficit-driven approach to communicating with
the public. I am especially interested in what is accomplished
by this ongoing deficit thinking and the educational efforts that
stem from it, despite its failure to produce the uncritical pub-
lic embrace of science and technology in the food system that it
presumably seeks.
ANTIPOLITICS
In accounting for how the food industry responded to the Real

Food frame, I pay attention to unintended effects of industry
efforts to educate the public about processed food, arguing that
14 / Introduction
among them was antipolitics. My analysis reveals an “antipoli-

tics machine” similar to one that James Ferguson uncovered in
his well-known work highlighting the “side effects” of “failed”
development projects in South Africa. The “antipolitics machine”
he describes was produced in the process of experts “insistently
reposing political questions of land, resources, jobs, or wages as
technical ‘problems’ responsive to the technical ‘development’
intervention.” It was the result of plans, conceptions, discur-
sive systems, social institutions, and systems of thought that he
describes as “an anonymous set of interrelations that only ends
up having a kind of retrospective coherence.”35 My analysis high-
lights the side effects of campaigns to improve public perceptions
of processed food, which were also composed of plans, discursive
systems, social institutions, and systems of thought and appear,
in retrospect, as the Real Facts frame. The “side effects” I discuss
include the entrenchment and expansion of scientific author-
ity over questions about processed food and the uses of science
and technology in the food system more broadly, or food sci-
entism, and the depoliticization of the Real Food frame, or anti-
politics. The food industry insistently re-posed political questions
“of land, resources, jobs, and wages”—and more—as technical
“problems” responsive to the application of modern food pro-
duction technologies.36 At the same time, it insistently re-posed
political concerns about the food system, including its aims and
driving purposes, as technical problems of misunderstanding
or misinformation amenable to the intervention of the kind of
communication efforts this book explores.
I consider the Real Food frame a “practice of politics” in Tania
Li’s sense: “the expression, in word or deed, of a critical chal-
lenge” that often “starts out as refusal of the way things are.”37 In
her analysis of development projects in Indonesia, which builds
Introduction / 15
on Ferguson’s work, Li notes that the process of translating “the

will to improve” into specific plans and projects entails two insep-
arable practices. Problematization identifies “deficiencies that
need to be rectified” and “rendering technical” poses problems in
a way that aligns with the expertise of those positioned to address
them. As Li explains, rendering a problem technical also renders
it nonpolitical because of what must be excluded for the problem
to match the available solutions. In the case of the food industry’s
response to the Real Food frame, problematization was shaped by
the deficit model of the public understanding of science. When
food industry actors set out to correct the problem they identi-
fied as the public’s lack of knowledge and understanding, they
excluded the salient questions about the food system raised by
the Real Food frame and confirmed their own authority over the
problem at hand. “Rendering technical” also creates certain
kinds of social relationships, confirming the authority of experts
and the boundary between those “with the capacity to diagnose
deficiencies in others . . . and those who are subject to expert
direction.” At the same time, it both generates and responds to
the possibility for contestation; this is “a boundary that has to be
maintained and that can be challenged.”38 In the case I explore,
the boundary between experts and those who were subject
to their direction was in constant tension. The Real Food frame
presented ongoing challenges to taken for granted ideas about
both good food and expert authority, and the food industry
responded with the dynamic, evolving efforts I describe.
STS scholars have long expressed concerns about the troubling
political foreclosures enacted by the deficit model of the pub-
lic understanding of science, arguing that how experts imagine
and project the public in relation to science shapes whether or to
what extent it seems reasonable or necessary to take its concerns
16 / Introduction
seriously or to include it in decision making.39 Wynne, for exam-

ple, describes scientific representations of risk as embodying tacit
projections of human subjects, including their “agency and capac-
ities,” and elsewhere talks about how the public is “imagined,
constructed and projected in reflection of the unspoken needs
of the institutionally powerful.”40 Building on the premise that
deficit-driven imaginaries of the public have real consequences
for the possibility for the public to be included in decision mak-
ing about technological governance, Marris looks at how public
attitudes about synthetic biology have been imagined and pro-
jected as a major threat to the field that needs to be overcome so
that it can deliver its public benefit.41 Looking at the field’s efforts
to address ethical, legal, and social issues (ELSI work), she found
persistent “synbiophobia-phobia” among the experts, or fear of
the public’s fear of the new technology, arguing that supporters
of synthetic biology advocated “communication and dialogue, but
not debate where people could disagree about what is at stake.”42
Similarly, the Real Facts frame imagined an irrationally fearful
public whose misperceptions had to be overcome for the public
benefit of the industrial food system to be delivered. While food
industry actors were very much focused on communicating with
the public about processed food, by imagining and projecting
an irrationally fearful public lacking the skills and capacities
to understand the science of food production, they closed down
rather than opened up the possibility for meaningful debate
where people could disagree about the issues or what was at stake.
As Wynne explains, scientism causes public rejection of things
done in the name of science to appear as a rejection of science
because it “has already so falsely narrowed its moral imagina-
tion to the idea that support for the policy stance is determined
by scientific fact, that no alternative is left.”43 Ultimately, there
Introduction / 17
becomes little to no reasonable ground for public refusal. My

analysis reveals the ways in which the Real Facts frame produced
the public as antiscience, showing that the conflict over processed
food appeared to be about science itself because of the ways in
which the food industry drew on scientific authority—and sci-
entistic assumptions—to defend its own interests. It’s a sleight of
hand that played on and played into existing science wars and
broader national politics concerning the status of truth, so height-
ened during the Trump and COVID-19 years. Crucially, in so
doing, it obscured or distracted from important questions about
the future of the food system and the ends to which science and
technology are used within it.
This sleight of hand by the food industry was part of the
“antipolitics machine” I explore, as were its scientistic under-
pinnings. Wynne and others have shown that scientistic
assumptions lead to the mistaken belief that public concerns
are primarily related to risk, or the impact of technologies,
rather than the aims and driving purposes of innovation. As
Melissa Leach, Ian Scoones, and Wynne put it in their introduc-
tion to Science and Citizens, “The assumption is that public con-
cerns are focused on risk and consequences rather than on the
unstated and unaccountable human purposes, aspirations, pri-
orities, expectations and aims that drive innovation oriented
scientific knowledge.”44 Similarly, in Seeds, Science and Struggle,
Abby Kinchy describes a “scientization” of public debate about
biotechnology in which social conflicts were transformed into
debates among scientific experts and risk assessment was ele-
vated over questions about the social desirability of the technol-
ogy. She argues that while conflicts over genetically engineered
crops were “disputes about the social order,” scientization nar-
rowed the public debate to questions about evidence of risk,
18 / Introduction
occluding the bigger question at stake: “What kind of agriculture

do we want?”45 Writing about the policing of food safety concerns
in Japan in the wake of the Fukushima nuclear meltdown, the
sociologist Aya H. Kimura notes that scientization gave science
“the final word on controversies, obfuscating their social and
cultural roots and consequences.”46 She argues that “food polic-
ing” constrained the ability of citizens to engage in contamina-
tion issues by condemning their concerns as antiscience, leaving
little space for the expression of views that might “form a basis
for figuring out social and political, not necessarily scientific,
solutions to the situation.”47 In the context of the processed food
controversy, the Real Facts frame narrowly construed the issues
at hand as having only to do with risk, or the safety of the pro-
cesses, ingredients, and technologies that the industry used to
produce food. It too focused the public debate on questions about
risk and scientific evidence, leaving little room for the expression
of views that might lead to social and political solutions to the
situation. The Real Facts frame enacted antipolitics by occluding
both public concerns about the aims and driving purposes that
science and technology serve and the bigger question that was at
stake: What kind of food system do we want?
STRUCTURE OF THE BOOK
The book begins with a chapter that explains how good food
became “real” at the beginning of the twenty-first century. Each
subsequent chapter analyzes an encounter between the food
industry and the public, or the imagined public, in which experts
responded to “real food” with “real facts.” The first encounter,
described in chapter 2, takes place in the classroom, where two
curricula competed to teach American schoolchildren where their
Introduction / 19
food comes from. The next encounter, the focus of chapter 3,

takes place in the marketplace and the regulatory arena, where
trade groups, corporations, and the public wrestled over the
meaning of “natural” when it came to food. The third encoun-
ter, analyzed in chapter 4, revolves around the question of how
communication between the food industry and the public should
evolve as it became clear that established methods, described in
the previous chapters, were not working. I selected these three
encounters from the vast array of possibilities to highlight both
the primary domains in which the food industry responded to
changing perceptions of processed food and the primary discur-
sive themes that shaped these responses. My early exposure to
IFIC discussed at the beginning of the introduction suggested
two of the important domains to pay attention to: communica-
tion aimed directly at the public, such as the FACTS Network, and
efforts within the food industry to develop new communication
strategies, such as the “Understanding Our Food” communica-
tors tool kit. But I also came to understand the marketplace as a
critically important domain in which the food industry sought to
address the public’s attitudes about processed food, which is why
one of the chapters focuses on the market and its associated regu-
latory arena. The discursive themes I identified—understanding
where your food comes from, naturalness, and transparency—
were initially championed by the social and consumer move-
ments resisting the industrial food system and were then taken
up in the food industry’s response to them. While the time peri-
ods the chapters cover overlap, the main events they discuss pro-
ceed loosely chronologically.
The work of responding to the public’s changing perceptions of
processed food has been conducted largely by trade associations
representing the food and agriculture industries, so the chapters
20 / Introduction
focus on the efforts of such groups. Trade groups have histori-

cally played an important but overlooked role in the relationship
between the food industry and the public. In her history of the
canning industry, Anna Zeide notes that food industry trade
groups emerged alongside canning in the early twentieth cen-
tury. Canners established the first trade associations to promote
confidence in the new technology and used the language of sci-
ence to “build consumer trust and taste.”48 Over time these asso-
ciations came to represent the broader processed food industry
and became one of the most powerful but overlooked players
in the food system. The power of trade groups representing the
food industry has only intensified since the 1980s, as the industry
has become increasingly consolidated into fewer, more powerful
companies joining forces to amplify and exercise their influence
through trade associations.49
Sarah Heiss, who has written about the Sugar Association and
the Corn Refiners Association, notes that while many scholars
have looked at the role of trade associations in framing risks and
shaping health policy, few have looked specifically at their role in
the context of food risks.50 According to Heiss, industry is a “stake-
holder in risk negotiations,” seeking to shape how risks are iden-
tified and managed, and many organizations participate in trade
associations to “ensure their voice is heard.”51 Heiss explains that
such associations aggregate the already significant resources
of their members to negate risk, shape the public conversation
about issues, influence policy, and burnish the public image of
the industry they represent.52 They lobby and conduct public rela-
tions and marketing campaigns, activities that blur the bound-
aries between research, education, advertising, and advocacy.53
Thus, she argues, trade associations should be understood as
“discursive landscape architects.”54
Introduction / 21
While trade associations inherently blur the boundary

between research, education, advertising, and advocacy, some
of the food industry organizations whose work I analyze operate
closer to the murky boundary between trade groups and what crit-
ics refer to as front groups. While trade groups tend to be up-front
about who they represent, front groups are easier to mistake as
having other purposes, such as educating the public to help them
make sound consumption choices or helping clear up confusion
about the benefits of modern food processing. They operate more
in the public relations domain rather than through lobbying and
tend to have names that don’t directly indicate who their funders
are.55 It’s clear who the Corn Refiners Association represents, for
example, but “International Food Information Council” is not a
name that readily reveals the fact that the organization is funded
by corporate members that control much of the global food sys-
tem. Like trade groups, a main goal of industry front groups is
to control the public discourse.56 The Center for Food Safety, an
organization describing itself as “at the forefront of organizing a
powerful food movement that is fighting the food industry model
and promoting organic, ecological and sustainable alternatives,”
published a critical guide to food industry front groups in 2013. It
argued that instead of working to fix problems in the food system,
the industry uses front groups to “change the way these problems
are talked about, to downplay them, to discredit critics, and oth-
erwise make the problems disappear from the public’s eye.”57 I
look at three examples of how trade groups representing the food
industry sought to shape the discourse around processed food by
framing the problem as the public and its misunderstandings.
The chapters are not organized around specific food system
issues, nor do they address empirical questions about the food
system issues that are raised. One of the defining characteristics
22 / Introduction
of the Real Food frame is that it emerged from several distinct

concerns that converged around the idea that processed food
should be avoided. The Real Food frame is itself an abstraction
and an amalgamation of concerns about food, the food industry,
the food system, and the role of scientific authority. In each of the
encounters I explore, distinct issues such as obesity, biotechnol-
ogy, chemical additives, pesticides, and animal welfare are con-
flated as they are contested by advocates of both Real Food and
Real Facts. Each of the issues that converged to redefine good food
as “real” are pressing and the subject of some level of scientific
controversy and debate. The question of whether processed food
is good or bad can only be answered by disentangling these issues,
exploring the scientific evidence, and putting this in relation to
social, cultural, political, and economic contexts and impacts. But
that is not a task I take on here. It is not a goal of this book to take
a stand on the many empirical question that are raised within the
encounters I explore. Rather than evaluate empirical claims and
counterclaims, I focus on how knowledge and expertise are con-
tested through these claims, as well as their political stakes. This
book is also not about the role of science in food production, the
manipulation of scientific research by the food industry, or how
science has also been deployed by food industry critics and advo-
cates of alternative agriculture, all important topics that have
been addressed by others.58
CHAPTERS AND METHODS
To draw out the political stakes of efforts to educate the public

about processed food, this book describes a coherence that
emerged, in retrospect, from my observations of a messy land-
scape of discourses and actions. The idea that this landscape could
be understood as a framing contest between “Real Food” and “Real
Introduction / 23
Facts” occurred to me early in the process as I immersed myself in

what was going on with processed food, casting a wide net that
transcended the contents of the chapters in the book. I thought
with the frames as I wrote up some preliminary findings, but
the framing contest concept was not an analytic that I deployed
throughout the research and analysis. Each data set I collected
called for a different methodological approach, described in more
detail below, all of which involved some form of inductive coding
that led me to distinct analytical themes. I approached the data
with questions about how actors in the food industry thought
about, represented, and interacted with the public, and my ana-
lytical process involved looking for patterns that would help me
understand that. Only in retrospect did the frames become coher-
ent in my understanding of what I was seeing across the data sets
and central to how I presented them for readers.
Chapter 1 has two central aims. The first is to contest the food
industry’s framing of negative perceptions of processed food as
the result of irrational fears, lack of knowledge, or misunder-
standings by tracing the historical changes through which pro-
cessed food became “bad” and good food became “real” at the
turn of the twenty-first century. The second is to show that in
redefining good and bad food, the Real Food frame also chal-
lenged established forms of scientific authority over food as well
as the food industry’s relationship to it. To resist the Real Facts
frame’s deficit-driven imaginary of the public and reframe Real
Food as a practice of politics, I focus on what people understood,
desired, and were anxious for rather than what they were anx-
ious about or afraid of.59 The chapter begins by looking at how
it became more socially important than ever before for people
to eat right, just as dietary advice turned to avoiding potentially
harmful foods and nutrients for the first time. Then I explain how
the Real Food frame emerged from a confluence of overlapping
24 / Introduction
concerns about the industrial food system that also challenged

its scientific underpinnings, imposing new ways of thinking
about “good food” that necessarily encompassed more than sci-
ence could account for.
The following chapters explore the three encounters between
the food industry and the public introduced briefly above.
Chapter 2 picks up on clues from Schmidt’s talk at the Food Pro-
cessing Expo, focusing on the K–8 curriculum put together by
IFIC’s Alliance to Feed the Future. The curriculum is an exam-
ple of communication aimed directly at the public, and because
the lessons aimed to teach students about the “journey from farm
to fork” it also highlights the discursive theme “knowing where
your food comes from.” Because the Alliance put together two
different sets of educational materials that together comprised
over forty lessons plus posters and take-home pages, this example
offers an unusually rich and detailed archive for examining the
Real Facts frame in action. The Alliance curriculum was designed
to respond broadly to negative perceptions of processed food, but
Schmidt described the Alliance as forming in direct response to
a curriculum that was being used in high schools alongside the
highly critical film Food, Inc. Therefore, the chapter puts these
two sets of educational materials into conversation with each
other, showing how they were shaped by the Real Food and Real
Facts frames. The overarching argument of the chapter is that
the Discussion Guide designed to be used alongside Food, Inc.
centered political contestation and sought to prepare students to
become active citizens working to shape the food system, whereas
the Alliance lessons centered scientism and sought to prepare stu-
dents to become future consumers of the products of the indus-
trial food system. The methods used in this chapter are quite
straightforward, involving a little background research on each
Introduction / 25
curriculum but primarily focusing on a close reading of the Food,

Inc. Discussion Guide, as well as the film chapters it was meant to
be used with, and the educational materials that were designed
by IFIC’s Alliance to the Feed the Future.
This example also gives me a chance to highlight the work of
IFIC, which has been at the forefront of the industry’s effort to
counter negative attitudes about processed food. IFIC is a “sister
organization” of the International Life Sciences Institute (ILSI),
whose efforts to influence research and policy have been the
subject of several recent studies. Less is known about the work
of IFIC, which focuses on media and communication, though a
recent study using documents accessed under transparency laws
looks at how it works on behalf of its funders to oppose dietary
health interventions. As mentioned at the outset, IFIC is a trade
association focused on “communicating scientific evidence
related to nutrition, agriculture, and health” to policy makers and
the general public. While technically split into two organizations,
the trade association and a charitable organization called the IFIC
Foundation, the leadership is shared between the two, and it is
difficult to discern which organization is behind any given activ-
ities.60 Members and funders of the two organizations include
the most powerful food companies in the world, such as Cargill,
Coca-Cola, Danone, General Mills, Mendelez International, and
Pepsico.61 The US Department of Agriculture (USDA) was also a
funder of the IFIC Foundation.62
Chapter 3 looks at how the food industry responded to the
Real Food frame with “natural” and “clean label” offerings while
also perceiving and representing the demand for these prod-
ucts as driven by public misunderstandings and a threat to both
established product development practices and the very basis of
the industry’s scientific authority. Focused on the domain of the
26 / Introduction
marketplace and highlighting the discursive theme of natural-

ness, the chapter begins by looking at how consumers of food
products marketed as “natural” were imagined in the pages of
two high-circulation food industry publications, Food Process-
ing and Food Technology. The second half of the chapter looks at
how h
undreds of food industry trade associations imagined and
projected the public in the comments they submitted to the Food
and Drug Administration (FDA) in response to that agency’s 2015
proposal to regulate the use of the term “natural” on food prod-
ucts. It also looks at comments submitted to the FDA by the public
and consumer advocates. I contend that while individual mem-
bers of the public and consumer advocates argued for “natural” to
be defined in a way that would help people act on their concerns
about the food system in the marketplace, industry actors deploy-
ing the Real Facts frame argued that the term should instead be
defined by experts, regardless of whether the result aligns with
consumer expectations.
Methodologically, this chapter tracks the Real Facts frame
across two different data sets, both quite large. The first half,
focusing on media analysis, reflects background research I did
collecting and inductively coding about 125 relevant articles in
mainstream news sources that mentioned “natural food” between
what appeared to be the first relevant appearance in 1976 and the
time the research was conducted in 2017.63 I also thematically
coded relevant articles about “natural food” in two influential
food industry publications, about 120 in Food Processing, which
claims it has a worldwide audience of more than 736,000 industry
professionals, and about 50 in Food Technology, produced by IFT,
which describes it as “the leading publication addressing all fac-
ets of food science and technology.”64
To obtain and analyze the comments submitted to the FDA in
response to its request for comment about regulation of the term
Introduction / 27
“natural,” I had support from the Digital Scholarship Lab (now

DataLab) at UC Davis. After using an automated process to extract
all the comments submitted to regulations.gov, those submitted
directly into the portal were subjected to a topic modeling process
that used word proximity to identify the twenty-five most promi-
nent “topics,” or conversations, taking place across the comments.
I coded the top ten to twenty comments in each topic (until satura-
tion was reached), identified the central conversation in each, and
then grouped the conversations into the themes that informed
my analysis. The comments submitted as attachments were han-
dled separately for technical reasons, but because attachments
were used by experts who submitted longer comments on com-
pany letterhead, the process sorted the data in a way that worked
well for my research questions, allowing me to analyze corpo-
rate comments separately from public comments. I organized the
attachments by submitter type (certifiers, government entities,
nongovernmental organizations, professional societies, corporate
entities, trade groups, and cooperatives) and captured key pieces
of information for each one in a database, including what the
comment recommended the FDA do, how it defined “natural,” and
its point of view on processing, while also thematically coding the
attachments using an inductive, or emergent, process.
Chapter 4 focuses on the work of the Center for Food Integrity
(CFI), a nonprofit organization supported by industry members
and considered a front group by critics, whose mission was to
help “today’s food system build consumer trust.”65 The CFI is an
example of food industry initiatives to develop and promote new
ways of communicating with the public in response to the chal-
lenges posed by the Real Food frame, and this chapter highlights
the discursive theme of transparency, which the CFI promoted
as a way to win back the trust of consumers. The CFI challenged
the food industry’s established approach to communicating with
28 / Introduction
the p
ublic through facts and expertise by advancing new
approaches that centered values. The group’s work reflected
broader changes in science communication, allowing me to track
what these changes meant for communication between the food
industry and the public.66 After an introduction that includes

details about the history and structure of the CFI, I explore how
the CFI developed and disseminated an evolved approach to
imagining and communicating with the public that challenged
the Real Facts frame, looking at how it trained members of the
food industry to communicate with the public through shared
values and transparency instead of foregrounding scientific
facts and expertise. I argue that while the CFI’s aim was to move
beyond established approaches to communication between
the food industry and the public, the strategies it advanced
remained shaped by food scientism and the e
ver-resilient
deficit model of the public understanding of science. I also
look specifically at how the CFI enacted antipolitics through
its approach to building trust through transparency, as well
as its advice to the food industry to focus communication efforts
only on segments of the population whose opinions were likely to
be moved in a desired direction. Methodologically, research for
this chapter is drawn from the CFI’s extensive publications, webi-
nars, and training programs, as well as an interview with its
founder and CEO.
I focus on the CFI because it was, and is, a dominant actor in
this space. It took the lead in pushing the industry to reconsider
its relationship with the public and shaped discourses about food,
trust, and science in both the business press and popular media
while also having a direct impact on how companies approached
communicating with the public. I am not aware of any other criti-
cal scholarship that has explored the CFI’s work. Members, board
Introduction / 29
members, and funders include and represent many of the most

powerful companies in food and agriculture. A 2017 membership
list recorded fifty distinct organizations, over half of which were
trade groups or commodity boards representing large segments
of the food and agricultural industries, including the American
Farm Bureau Federation, Bayer, Cargill, Costco, Dairy Farmers
of America, Kroger, National Pork Board, Starbucks, and Sysco.67
Board members have included representatives from across the
food and agriculture industries, including Corteva Agriscience,
Costco, Grupo Bimbo, and Dairy Farmers of America.68 In 2015 the
CFI published a list of leading companies that had used its new
“transparency index” that included giants such as the Campbell
Soup Company, ConAgra, DuPont, Kroger, Monsanto, Tyson, and
more.69 The CFI has had a powerful influence on popular
and professional discourses about the relationship between the
food industry and the public. Between 2009 and 2019 the CFI and
its work were quoted, cited, or otherwise favorably discussed in
approximately 175 articles in local newspapers (e.g., Santa Mon-
ica Daily Press, Grand Rapids Press, and Iowa State Daily), national
media outlets (e.g., NPR, CNBC, CNN, The Atlantic, USA Today,
Forbes, and Fortune), and food industry trade publications (e.g.,
Food Navigator, Beef Magazine, Corn and Soybean Digest, and Food
Processing). During the same period, authors affiliated with the
Center for Food Integrity published numerous articles in aca-
demic journals, including Rural Sociology, Science Communica-
tion, and Food Technology, and the work of the CFI was favorably
discussed or cited in a handful of other academic articles.70
The concluding chapter follows the Real Facts frame into the
future in two ways. First, it looks at how a new agri-food tech
sector, influenced by Silicon Valley–style approaches to inno-
vation and finance, promised transformative disruption in the
30 / Introduction
food
system. Focusing on the illustrative example of Impossi-
ble Foods—maker of animal-free burgers promising to taste,
smell, cook, and even “bleed” just like meat—I ask whether the
deficit-driven food scientism of the Real Facts frame was also
disrupted by the entrepreneurs, innovators, and investors fuel-
ing growing investments in alternative proteins. This analysis
is based on extensive research on the agri-food tech sector that
I participated in as part of the University of California Agri-Food
Tech Research Project (UC AFTeR Project), funded by the National
Science Foundation.71 Between 2018 and 2022 our project team
conducted participant observation at just over eighty agri-food
tech events. We also conducted nearly one hundred interviews
with agri-food tech sector actors, including entrepreneurs, inves-
tors, and leaders of tech incubators and accelerators, in which we
asked about perceptions of the public. Finding that the Real Facts
frame and its antipolitics live on in these future imaginaries, the
rest of the conclusion revisits the side effects of the encounters
explored in the previous chapters, looking at both the power and
the limits of the Real Facts “antipolitics machine.”
While this book is very much about the processed food con-
troversy in its specificity, the themes I explore will be famil-
iar because they both resemble and overlap with so many other
pressing issues. The processed food controversy has been shaped
by, and to a significant extent includes, the contest over genetic
engineering that has galvanized activists and shaken scientists
and policy makers for decades, and it bears many of the same
hallmarks.72 It also bears the marks of long-standing conflicts
over vaccines, and vaccine anxieties, that became exponentially
more fraught during the years I was writing this book, which
included the Trump presidency, the emergence of post-truth poli-
tics, and the COVID-19 pandemic.73 It is not unrelated to struggles
Introduction / 31
over climate science, the 2017 March for Science, and the prolifer-
ation of yard signs affirming that households believe “Science Is
Real.”74 While each of these conflicts is generally taken to be over
facts, or what is true, like the conflict over processed food they
need to also be understood as contests over the questions that
matter. They are produced in the friction between different ways
of understanding both science and the public. The idea that peo-
ple are “antiscience”—whether it’s in relation to vaccines, GMOs,
or climate change—is a blunt tool that misdiagnoses the problem
at hand, reduces public concerns to ignorance and emotion, and
creates more, not less, alienation and mistrust between the public
and scientific institutions. This book suggests that what is needed
instead is a sensitive understanding of the knowledge politics that
shape these controversies, with attention to how scientific author-
ity, not just science, is deployed and how publics are imagined and
projected, not just how much they understand science.
CHAPTER ONE
How Good Food

Became “Real”
In 2013 James Kennedy published a poster titled “Ingredients of

an All-Natural Banana” on his blog. Beneath the title, a picture of a
banana was followed by an ingredient list packed with unfamil-
iar, unpronounceable words (Fig. 1). Accompanying text explained
that Kennedy, a chemistry teacher in Australia, created the poster
to educate people who were concerned about “scary looking ingre-
dients” and push back against the use of words like pure and sim-
ple to describe “natural” products by showing that natural foods
are in truth “usually more complicated than anything we can
create in the lab.”1 Within a year his simple teaching aid had gone
viral with two million views. By 2016 Kennedy had produced
eleven more posters (for blueberries, eggs, strawberries, cher-
ries, etc.), launched a successful clothing line, and sold thousands
of copies of the original banana poster through his website. The
posters were covered in Vox, Forbes, Business Insider, the New York
Times, and more and, according to Kennedy, received over 700,000
views on his website, not to mention millions more via social
media.2 Building on his platform, Kennedy in 2017 self-published
Fighting Chemophobia: The Story of How We Became Afraid of
32
How Good Food Became “Real” / 33
Figure 1. “Ingredients of an All-Natural Banana” teaches the

public that even a
ll-natural foods contain complex, “scary-
looking” ingredients. Courtesy of James Kennedy, https://james
kennedymonash.wordpress.com/2013/12/12/ingredients-of-an
-all-natural-banana.
Chemicals and What to Do about It, a book about the “irrational fear
of chemicals” and overreaction to “harmless, negligible sources of
contamination” that caused people to seek out natural, organic,
and chemical-free alternatives, as well as how to “fight” it.3
In 2015 the wildly popular food blogger Vani Hari, better
known as Food Babe, was “taken down” in a viral Gawker article
34 / How Good Food Became “Real”
written by Yvette d’Entremont, who called herself SciBabe. Blog-

ging since 2011 about health and nutrition, Food Babe initiated a
series of campaigns to pressure the food industry into r emoving
harmful ingredients from their products. By 2014 she had
amassed a formidable “Food Babe Army,” her blog had received
over 54 million views, she had nearly a million Facebook and Twit-
ter followers, and Time magazine had named her “one of the 30
most influential people on the internet.”4 High-profile campaigns
included petitioning Kraft Foods to remove dyes from their maca-
roni and cheese; asking Subway to remove the chemical azodicar-
bonamide, also found in yoga mats, from their rolls; and pressuring
Starbucks to be more transparent about its ingredients. According
to SciBabe, it was Food Babe’s 2014 campaign against Starbucks
pumpkin spice lattes that drove her to launch her own blog “ded-
icated to debunking pseudoscience in the blogosphere.” In “The
‘Food Babe’ Blogger Is Full of Shit,” which according to her website
went “massively viral” in 2015, SciBabe introduced herself as an
analytical chemist and described Food Babe as a graduate of “Goo-
gle University” and an “uncredentialed expert in everything she
admittedly can’t pronounce.” She claimed that “it’s rare to come
across a single scientific fact” on Food Babe’s site and went on to
describe the many reasons “she’s the worst assault on science on
the internet.” She berated Food Babe’s concerns about the amount
of sugar in pumpkin spice lattes, imploring her to look at a “safety
data sheet for sugar” she linked to the article, and called her con-
cerns about caramel color ridiculous because the additive was in
the same carcinogen class as coffee.5
These examples show the Real Facts frame in action and sug-
gest its pervasiveness as a way of thinking about the processed
food problem and imagining the public in relation to science. Ken-
nedy and SciBabe were not representatives of the food industry
seeking to maintain consumer interest in processed food, but they
shared the worldview of the Real Facts frame in which public con-
cerns about processed food appeared to be the result of misinfor-
mation and irrational anxiety. It is true that in the early years of
the twenty-first century many people viewed processed food neg-
atively because, among other things, they were concerned about
the safety of the ingredients it contained. There were, however, a
lot of different questions that could be asked about this. As Gus-
sow reminds us, which questions people choose to ask has a lot to
do with the worldview they start out with. For Kennedy, SciBabe,
and others immersed in the Real Facts frame, the questions that
mattered were those that could be answered by science. These
had to do with risk to human health, so they assumed that public
concerns had only to do with such risks and dismissed them as
irrational because science said the ingredients were safe. Their
question thus became, How can we educate the public so they will
no longer be irrationally fearful of ingredients they can’t pro-
nounce? This chapter explores what this framing missed about
the Real Food frame, not by examining the facts in dispute—such
as whether the ingredients in question were in fact safe to con-
sume—but by exploring the critical challenges the Real Food
frame expressed beyond this narrow view emphasizing health
risks and irrational fears.
In their book, Vaccine Anxieties, Melissa Leach and James Fair-
head show the power of framing public concerns about vaccines
in a way that includes not only what people are anxious about but
also what they are anxious for. As they explain, anxieties can be
both negative and positive, encompassing not only unease, worry,
and concern but also the earnest, focused desire for something
or to do something. Focusing solely on the negative anxieties that
drive behavior, or what people are anxious about, tends to high-
light the public’s lack of understanding and trust. A very different
picture emerges when the frame also includes positive anxieties,
or what people are anxious for and what they do understand and
desire.6 Following their lead, in this chapter I push back against
the Real Facts frame’s understanding of concerns about processed
food, which has focused on the public’s failure to understand the
safety and benefits of processed food and the breaking down of
trust in food science. In telling the story of where the Real Food
frame came from, I focus on what people did understand and
show that the Real Food frame expressed an earnest desire to eat
right in the context of a wide range of legitimate concerns about
processed food, the industrial food system, and the food indus-
try. At the same time, I show how this alignment of eating right
with avoiding processed food was shaped by implicit and explicit
challenges to the food industry’s relationship with science and
scientific authority. Each of the concerns that shaped the Real
Food frame played a part in both redefining processed food as
“bad” and challenging the scientific basis of the food industry’s
authority by asking questions about food that science alone could
not answer.
EATING RIGHT AT THE TURN

OF T H E T W E N T Y- F I R S T C E N T U RY
In my first book, I traced a history of what it has meant to eat

right in the United States since the late nineteenth century and
argued that during the final decades of the twentieth century eat-
ing right became more important for identity and status than it
had ever been before. This means that concerns about processed
food emerged in the context of historically high levels of positive
anxiety about eating right. Eating Right in America tells the sto-
ries of four dietary reform movements from the late nineteenth
to the early twenty-first century, revealing a series of changes
in advice about how to eat right, ideas about why people should
eat right, and what it meant to be a “good eater.” I found that over
those one hundred-plus years, dietary ideals changed and cul-
tural understandings of what it meant to be a responsible per-
son and a good citizen changed, but the relationship between the
two remained the same: dietary ideals consistently reflected and
expressed social ideals. Therefore, eating right was an important
means by which people both constituted themselves and assessed
others as responsible subjects and good citizens—or not. Eating
right was not simply a matter of biomedical well-being for indi-
viduals but also a means of moral self-making that had real social
implications. Furthermore, the social importance of eating right
increased over time, dramatically so in the final decades of the
twentieth century.7
At the broadest level, the convergence of neoliberalism and
a growing emphasis on chronic diseases during the last few
decades of the twentieth century led to increasing pressure on
individuals to pursue health through a wide variety of every-
day activities, from wearing seatbelts to not drinking too much
alcohol. As has been well documented, one of the most striking
features of the neoliberalization that occurred over this time
was the devolution of responsibility for health to individuals.8
Simultaneously, the focus of the health community shifted from
communicable diseases, which generally required quarantine,
to chronic diseases such as cancer, diabetes, cardiovascular dis-
ease, and obesity, which were considered matters of behavior and
lifestyle. Through these shifts, the range of activities and habits
considered related to health expanded dramatically, and health
seeking became an increasingly prevalent part of everyday life.
Robert Crawford, scholar of the meaning of health in contempo-
rary American culture, argues that at this time the prevention of
illness became a pervasive standard against which an expand-

ing number of behaviors were judged, and both the problems
of health and their solutions were increasingly defined within
the boundaries of personal control. Health, as something about
which individuals should be informed and seek to change, moved
to the center of the middle-class experience, and the pursuit
and practices of health became central to identity and status. He
explains that “health talk became personal responsibility talk,”
and, because personal responsibility was so central to notions of
what it meant to be a good neoliberal subject, personal responsi-
bly for health was “widely considered the sine qua non of individ-
ual autonomy and good citizenship.”9
It was in this context that diet became more important to
health than ever before and avoiding potentially harmful foods
became central to dietary advice for the very first time, factors
that together set up the possibility for avoiding processed food
to become a central part of responsible self-making. Since the
discovery of vitamins in the World War I era, dietary guidance
had consistently reflected an “eat more” approach, teaching peo-
ple how to get enough nutrients every day by understanding the
principles of substitution, or how different foods provided sim-
ilar nutrients. However, as the focus of the broader health com-
munity shifted from communicable to chronic diseases, the
focus of nutrition shifted from concerns about deficiencies to
the role of diet in chronic diseases. Vitamin-oriented nutritional
thinking emphasizing the importance of eating a wide variety
of health-promoting foods gave way to an “eat less” approach to
dietary advice that encouraged people to reduce or limit intake of
foods or nutrients—such as fat, sugar, cholesterol, and salt—that
were believed to be linked with “the health problems of adults in
an affluent society.”10 As has been well documented, the shift to
“eat less” dietary advice, or what Warren Belasco calls “negative
nutrition,” did not go smoothly; industry lobbyists afraid of the

impact on consumer purchasing decisions pushed back, ulti-
mately diluting the USDA’s messages to the public (discussed
more fully below).11 Nonetheless, dietary thinking was reshaped
by the shift to negative nutrition. Avoiding potentially harmful
foods became central to eating right just as diet became central
to health, and pursuing health became more important than ever
before to identity and status.
This matrix of a growing cultural emphasis on health in gen-
eral, greater investment in health seeking as central to good citi-
zenship, the focus on diet as a means of seeking health, and the
turn toward negative nutrition created a context in which it made
perfect sense for people to want to eat right by avoiding poten-
tially harmful foods. They were driven by a powerful positive
anxiety comprising a desire to be a good eater and a growing
understanding that eating right meant choosing “real” as opposed
to processed food. This understanding was shaped by a conflu-
ence of concerns about obesity, sustainability, nutrition, and risk.
While distinct in many ways, all these concerns raised questions
about the role of processed food in the American diet, the impacts
of the industrial food system, and the values of the food indus-
try. At the same time, these concerns and the movements that
emerged to address them also raised questions about authority
and expertise. How do we know what a good diet is? Who gets to
decide? Based on what kinds of knowledge and expertise?
OBESIT Y
Concerns about obesity, which peaked in the early years of the

twenty-first century, reshaped ideas about processed food,
the food industry, and the relationship between the food indus-
try and scientific authority. Obesity was declared an “epidemic”
in 2001, spurring massive public and private investment in com-

bating it, but different ways of understanding the causes of obesity
and what to do about it vied for attention, authority, and dollars.12
Among these was a public health crisis frame, which emerged in
the mid-1990s as concern about obesity in the US spiked in response
to a series of studies on population-level weight gain. In contrast to
an established medical frame that viewed fatness as a biomedi-
cal condition requiring medical intervention and the expertise
of physicians, the public health crisis frame looked at fatness as
a population-level problem requiring collective solutions and
government intervention.13 But even as the idea that obesity pre-
sented a public health crisis became widely accepted, not every-
one agreed about the causes of the problem and therefore what
should be done about it, resulting in what the sociologist Abigail
Saguy describes as a contest between different “blame frames.”14
The food industry was among those championing a “personal
responsibility” blame frame for obesity, in which individuals
were seen as responsible for their own fatness. This frame was
powerful and pervasive, in part because it drew on deep c ultural
reservoirs of individualism, belief in the value of self-reliance,
and suspicion of government intervention, as well as more recent
neoliberal investments in personal responsibility.15 The media
overwhelmingly portrayed obesity as a result of lack of willpower,
irresponsibility, and bad choices, blaming individuals for their
failure to maintain an ideal body weight and parents for allowing
kids to get fat.16 Diet and exercise were presumed to be the solution,
if only people would muster their willpower, take responsibility,
and make healthier choices. Advice from the federal government
mirrored these assumptions, with the Surgeon General in 2003,
for example, urging Americans to address the obesity epidemic
by taking “small steps” such as putting the lid on the cookie jar and
taking the stairs instead of the elevator.17 While taking pains not
to dismiss the seriousness of the obesity epidemic, food industry

representatives consistently maintained that exercise and c alorie
control were the keys to addressing it. Trade a
ssociations like the
International Food Information Council (IFIC) and the Grocery
Manufacturers Association (GMA) defended the industry against
attacks by emphasizing consumer choice and blaming parents for
being too permissive, negligent, or ignorant to manage what their
children eat.18
Throughout the early years of the twenty-first century, how-
ever, researchers and advocates advancing a “sociocultural
blame frame” challenged this focus on personal responsibil-
ity. The sociocultural blame frame repositioned individual- and
population-level weight gain and other health problems related to
diet not as the result of individual failures of willpower and
responsibility but as the result of sociocultural conditions such
as the structure of urban environments, the overabundance of
cheap calories, the nature of agricultural subsidies, poverty—and
the behaviors of the food industry. Media articles embracing this
frame treated the food industry as a “demon industry,” and the
sociocultural blame frame was used to support calls for greater
government regulation of the industry to protect the public.19
The sociocultural blame frame gained momentum through
a slew of influential articles, books, and films connecting the
nation’s health and other woes to factors outside individual con-
trol, especially the industrial food system.20 Proponents included
activists, authors, filmmakers, and academics, some working at
the intersection of the obesity epidemic and a growing “alterative
food movement” responding to broader ecological, social, and eco-
nomic concerns about the food system. High-profile advocates of
the sociocultural frame included Marion Nestle, Kelly Brownell,
and Michael Pollan, whose work is discussed below, as well as Eric
Schlosser (author of Fast Food Nation), Greg Critser (author of Fat
Land), and Morgan Spurlock (maker of the film Super Size Me). I
have written elsewhere about how the sociocultural blame frame
was not free of pervasive personal responsibility thinking, and
I have also critiqued many of its proponents for their n
ormative
uptake of the so-called obesity epidemic and its problematization
of body size (among other things).21 My task here is different, as
I focus on influential texts to highlight the role of the sociocul-
tural blame frame in simultaneously redefining processed food
as bad and challenging the food industry’s relationship to scien-
tific knowledge and authority.
As the sociocultural frame for obesity developed, it often
focused on processed food and fast food as both problematic in
and of themselves and emblematic of larger problems with the
food system, including power dynamics that favored the food
industry and the way the food industry leveraged scientific
knowledge and authority to maintain those power dynamics.
For example, Food Politics, published by the New York University
public health nutritionist Marion Nestle in 2001, advanced a way
of understanding the causes of obesity and what should be done
about it that c entered the behavior of the food industry, particu-
larly its use of marketing and its manipulation of dietary advice.
Nestle argued that while food companies pushed a personal
responsibility narrative, “we do not make food choices in a vac-
uum.” The emphasis on individual choice and responsibility, she
argued, suggested that “nutritionists should be off teaching peo-
ple to take personal responsibility for their own diet and health—
not how to institute societal changes that might make it easier for
everyone to do so.”22 Instead, Nestle exposed and critiqued the con-
texts that created the conditions for individual overconsumption.
She argued that obesity and other food-related health problems
in America could be traced to “the food industry’s imperative to
encourage people to eat more” and their subsequent actions, espe-

cially efforts to influence information, knowledge, and advice.23
Nestle’s influential book detailed many ways in which the food
industry produced not only food that played a role in causing
obesity but also the informational contexts in which Americans
understood diet and health and decided what to eat. She described
in detail the role food industry lobbyists played in shaping dietary
advice issued by the USDA, beginning with the successful efforts
of beef and dairy lobbyists to thwart the USDAs first “eat less” rec-
ommendations in 1977. The USDA’s advice would have included
clear suggestions to reduce intake of meat, eggs, and foods high in
butterfat, sugar, and salt, but after being met with powerful oppo-
sition from cattle, egg, sugar, and dairy interests it was revised to
be far less straightforward. For example, the statement “reduce
consumption of meat” was replaced by “choose meats, poultry
and fish which reduce saturated fat intake.” In 1979 the guidance
became “choose lean meats.”24 The saga continued over the follow-
ing decades, with dietary advice consistently embattled by pres-
sure from food industry groups, and as a result, Nestle argued, it
ultimately failed to serve the public interest.25
Food Politics exposed and critiqued many other ways in which
the food industry influenced the informational environment,
detailing the nature and extent of industry investment of finan-
cial and other resources in forming partnerships with influential
nutrition organizations, funding scientific research, publiciz-
ing the results of favorable studies, and supporting professional
organizations, journals, and conferences.26 Ultimately, Nestle
argued that the facts about a good diet were clear, consistent, and
straightforward: people needed to eat more fruits and vegetables
and less meat, dairy, and processed food. Confusion about what
to eat was produced at the intersection of the media and the food
industry. “The greatest beneficiary of public confusion,” Nestle

argued, “is the food industry.” 27
While Nestle continued to advance this sociocultural under-
standing of the causes of obesity and call attention to the food
industry’s use of scientific knowledge and authority to distort
public perceptions of good food in more books and a long-running
blog, others championing this frame included Kelly Brownell, of
Yale’s Rudd Center for Food Policy and Obesity. Brownell, named
one of the world’s 100 most influential people by Time maga-
zine in 2006, built on Nestle’s work in many ways, including
by following up on her argument in Food Politics that parallels
between the food industry and Big Tobacco were “impossible to
avoid.”28 Brownell and Katherine Battle Horgen advanced a “toxic
environment” explanation for obesity in their 2004 book, Food
Fight.29 The book argued that the food industry played a central
role in creating and maintaining structural conditions that were
overwhelming people’s willpower and preying on their biology.
Their analysis included the role of increasingly sedentary life-
styles but focused on the fundamental economic conditions they
saw as creating the obesity epidemic: the overproduction of cal-
ories leading to the food industry’s many strategies designed to
sell them. The problem, they argued, was not that people were
irresponsible or lacking willpower but that “unhealthy food
is
convenient,
accessible, good-tasting, heavily promoted, and
cheap. Healthy food is harder to get, less convenient, promoted
very little and more expensive.”30
Given these conditions, Brownell and Horgen explained, it is
“perfectly understandable” that people would eat more, exercise
less, and gain weight.31 But they were also concerned about how
the food industry exercised its power, including through trade
associations, to discredit critics and undermine public health by
manipulating scientific knowledge and authority. They explained

that for critics like themselves, the very idea of “the food indus-
try” evoked the actions of trade groups that worked to lobby on
behalf of particular categories of foods. They pointed to trade
associations such as the GMA and the National Soft Drink Associ-
ation, explaining that it was through the actions of such groups—
their congressional testimony, websites, journals, and more—that
the “the food industry” became an organized and coherent entity,
also noting the problem of the notoriously tight relationships
between the food industry and regulatory agencies such as
the USDA.32
Both Food Fight and Brownell’s 2009 article with Kenneth E.
Warner provocatively titled “The Perils of Ignoring History:
Big Tobacco Played Dirty and Millions Died. How Similar Is Big
Food?” pointed to close political and financial connections
between Big Tobacco and the food industry, as well as similari-
ties in how they used science and scientific authority to defend
against critics. They argued that, like Big Tobacco, the food indus-
try claimed a commitment to public health while emphasizing
personal responsibility, sought to influence policy decisions in its
own favor, contributed millions in political donations, disavowed
the effects of advertising on consumption, and silenced critics.
Like Big Tobacco, the food industry also paid scientists to produce
research instilling doubt, criticized science finding harm from
their products, diverted attention away from food, and falsely
argued there was no nutrition consensus.33 Thus, the subsequent
uptake of the term “Big Food” by proponents of the sociocultural
obesity frame, as well as those critical of the food industry for
an array of related reasons, was not just about the size and, thus,
power of food corporations. It also expressed these critiques of
how the food industry behaved like Big Tobacco, manipulating
scientific knowledge and leveraging scientific authority to defend

itself from critics and deflect responsibility for obesity.34
ECOLOGICA L FOOD MOV EMENTS
These critical views of processed food and the food industry and
its relationship to scientific authority were reinforced at the inter-
section of ecologically oriented food movements, or “alternative
food movements,” of the early twenty-first century.35 Like the
sociocultural frame for obesity, these food movements questioned
the goodness of processed food and called for new ways of
understanding food and health that were broader, encompass-
ing not only things that could be measured by science but also
sociocultural as well as ecological factors. While best known for
efforts to forge and support alternatives to the industrial food
system, these movements also challenged expert authority over
the definition of “good food.” They were rooted in not only intel-
lectual and activist traditions around purity and agriculture but
also social movements that simultaneously championed real food
and contested scientific expertise.36 For example, they rekindled a
dormant health food movement that had historically promoted
alternative understandings of health and challenged the author-
ity of the mainstream scientific and medical community. Natural
food proponents rejected decades of assurances from scientific
authorities about the safety of conventionally produced foods,
but this was not just a disagreement over the facts. It was also a
contest between different worldviews. Natural food proponents
have historically raised questions about the kind of knowledge
that matters when it comes to food and health, refusing to take
for granted the primacy of scientific expertise and emphasizing
differences in individual responses to diet rather than statistical
averages.37 The food movements of the early twenty-first century

were also influenced by the food and identity politics of the 1960s
counterculture, or what Belasco calls the “countercuisine.” As
he explains, the countercuisine was shaped by a set of contrasts
that expressed ideas about both food and politics, including the
politics of expert authority. Proponents embraced “brown” over
“white” food and craft over convenience while also champion-
ing “improvisation” instead of “specialization,” aligning with the
broader countercultural goal of undermining the rule of experts
and returning power to ordinary people.38
Pioneering intellectuals and activists who laid the ground-
work for the ecological food movements of the early twenty-first
century urged people to think about food through new lenses,
moving beyond the nutritional framework that had dominated
dietary discourse since its emergence in the late nineteenth cen-
tury. For example, Joan Dye Gussow, hailed by the New York Times
as the “matriarch of the eat-locally-think-globally food move-
ment,” articulated the ecological ethos of good food as a direct
challenge to established forms of nutritional expertise, argu-
ing that averting environmental disaster would require looking
through “macroscopes” rather than microscopes.39 In a 1981 essay
she criticized her own field of nutrition for looking at ever smaller
and smaller aspects of food, breaking it down into microscopic
pieces and “looking at the isolated effects of the isolated behav-
iors on isolated food substances in isolated biological systems.”
She argued for the importance of looking beyond connections
between nutrients and cells to consider connections between
farmers and producers, food policies and environmental policies,
the cost of energy and the cost of food, and so on.40 While not tak-
ing on nutrition as directly, the farmer, poet, and environmental
activist Wendell Berry urged people to understand eating as an
“agricultural act” with wide-ranging implications for “how the

world is used.” For Berry, eating was a form of politics that was
profoundly connected to questions of freedom and democracy.
He urged people to resist the role of passive consumer that served
the system of industrial food production by understanding the
role they played in the economy of food and learning to eat
responsibly. He wanted people to think about good food in these
broader terms, taking politics as well as aesthetics and ethics into
consideration, and argued that the pleasure derived from know-
ing where food comes from “may be the best available standard
for our health.”41
Building on these legacies and responding to a growing aware-
ness of the ecological impacts of the industrial food system,
early twenty-first-century food movements focused on creating
markets for sustainably produced food, including by changing
the lens through which people thought about good food.42 They
worked to improve farming and food both by forging more direct
connections between consumers and producers and by teaching
people to consider the impacts of their food choices far beyond
their own health. They urged people to eat in accordance with
food system ideals related to sustainability, as well as support-
ing local economies and communities. Farmers markets, commu-
nity gardens, community supported agriculture, farm to school
programs, and a boom in organic agriculture were all results
of these movements. Across these efforts, processed and fast
food came to be seen, through these new lenses, as both bad food
and emblematic of larger problems in the food system.43 As the
food systems scholar Julie Guthman argues, the alternative food
movement was one of the most successful activist movements
of its time and “in an important sense redefined good food from
‘healthy’ to ‘real.’”44
Pollan’s wildly popular writing helped popularize both the

idea that “real food” was better than processed and the argu-
ment that new lenses were needed for thinking about good food.
While I have critiqued Pollan’s views on eating right elsewhere,
here I am interested in highlighting how he also brought a cri-
tique of nutrition science and its relationship to the food industry
into the popular discourse.45 Pollan captivated the nation’s atten-
tion with his critical perspective on the industrial food system
and advice about choosing real food in his 2007 New York Times
Magazine article, “Unhappy Meals,” and 2009 book exploring the
same themes, In Defense of Food. That book spent six weeks on
the New York Times best-seller list, and its core ideas were soon
after d
istilled in a compilation of rules, also published in 2009.46
A whimsically illustrated edition with an additional nineteen
rules came out in 2013, and in 2015 In Defense of Food was adapted
as a PBS documentary. The basic advice at the heart of much of
Pollan’s work—“Eat Food. Not Too Much. Mostly Plants”—pro-
vided a simple, memorable way of thinking about what to eat
that hinged on the distinction between “whole foods” and “edi-
ble foodlike substances” or “novel products of food science.”47 But
this advice not only vilified processed food and the food industry.
It also expressed a critique of expert authority over questions of
good food.
Writing at the intersection of ecological critiques of the indus-
trial food system and the sociocultural obesity blame frame,
Pollan echoed many of the arguments about the misuses and
manipulation of science discussed in the previous section. But
Pollan also went further, drawing heavily on the work of the
Australian social scientist Gyorgy Scrinis to directly challenge
nutrition’s authority over the question of what to eat. Borrowing
Scrinis’s analysis and coinage, Pollan introduced readers to the
concept of “nutritionism,” or the idea that nutrition was an ide-

ology built on the basic assumptions that nutrients are the key to
understanding food, that they can only be understood by experts,
and that the whole point of eating is biomedical health. 48 He cri-
tiqued the food industry’s influence on government dietary guide-
lines but also argued that the problem wasn’t just how nutrition
was used, but what the science itself was capable of. Like Gussow,
he pointed to its narrow approach focusing on single nutrients in
isolation, noting that reductionism was perhaps necessary given
the field’s tools and objectives, but it was inevitably misleading
because “people don’t eat nutrients; they eat foods.”49 By remov-
ing foods from their context, nutritionism prevented people from
recognizing that the larger problems in the food system had to do
with not just particular nutrients or foods, but large-scale shifts
“from whole foods to refined foods” and “from food culture to
food science,” as well as the rise of nutritionism itself.50
Pollan argued that nutritionism served the interests of the
food industry; its narrow lens was in part why processed food had
passed as good food for so long. Because nutrition sees only nutri-
ents, “qualitative distinctions between processed foods and whole
foods disappear,” which, Pollan pointed out, was a “great boon” for
manufacturers. Nutritionism provided a rationale for both pro-
cessing food and then further processing foods to align with the
latest nutritional theories, for example, by lowering fat or boost-
ing probiotics. Meanwhile, “real food” could not compete under
the rules of nutritionism. It could not be reformulated in response
to changing nutrition guidance and tended not to come in pack-
ages that could bear the sort of single-nutrient health claims that
are nutritionism’s hallmark. 51 “No idea,” P
ollan wrote, “could be
more sympathetic to manufacturers of processed food.”52 He chal-
lenged his readers to question the outcome of putting “science
and scientism in charge of the American diet,” urging them to
seriously reconsider placing “the authority of science above cul-

ture” when it comes to deciding what is good to eat.53
N O VA
The argument for using a broad lens to assess food quality, encom-
passing far more than what nutrition or any science could account
for, was eventually taken up and codified into dietary guidance
by Brazilian public health researchers. Primarily driven by con-
cerns about obesity, researchers at the University of São Paolo
led by Carlos Monteiro challenged the established nutrition par-
adigm by introducing a new food classification system called
NOVA, meaning “new” in Portuguese. Applying a “macroscopic”
rather than microscopic lens, NOVA centered processing as a way
of thinking about good food while also taking factors such as mar-
keting into consideration. Monteiro first introduced the ideas
behind NOVA in a 2009 article in Public Health Nutrition, the title
of which captured the paradigm-shifting contention that would
remain at the heart of this work: “Nutrition and Health. The Issue
Is Not Food, nor Nutrients, So Much as Processing.”54 The article
acknowledged and recommended the work of Michael Pollan, and
Monteiro and Scrinis would ultimately become collaborators. The
following year, Monteiro published a commentary in the journal
of the World Public Health Nutrition Association that began with
this striking sentence: “The most important factor now, when con-
sidering food, nutrition and public health, is not nutrients, and is
not foods, so much as what is done to foodstuffs and the nutrients
originally contained in them, before they are purchased and con-
sumed. That is to say, the big issue is food processing . . . and what
happens to food and to us as a result of processing.”55
Monteiro went on to explicitly name the epistemological crisis
caused by the obesity epidemic and the failure of nutrition science
to prevent or curtail it. “To be blunt,” he explained, “our science

has become somewhat discredited,” in part because it had retained
obsolete food classifications.56 He also noted that the theory he
was proposing could not be proven precisely because the field of
nutrition had historically grouped foods according to their chem-
ical constitution (i.e., food groups), with little to no attention to
processing. In other words, the science needed to prove his theory
had not been done, but, he argued, “there are occasions in public
life that are so urgent, important and critical, that action must be
taken before all the evidence that makes scientists and civil ser-
vants comfortable is in.”57 He described the new mode of dietary
guidance he proposed as using a “big picture approach” for think-
ing about good food. Therefore, it required types of evidence and
kinds of expertise not usually considered relevant. Understand-
ing good food would require taking seriously evidence produced
by the so-called soft social sciences, and identifying nutrition as a
“social, economic and environmental discipline.”58
The classificatory system Monteiro proposed would replace
established guidance based on food groups with a focus on pro-
cessing, yet moved beyond the vague idea that food processing in
general was a public health issue, instead specifying “the nature,
extent and purpose of processing, and in particular, the propor-
tion of meals, dishes, foods, drinks and snacks within diets that
are ‘ultra-processed.’” Anticipating the reaction of the food indus-
try, Monteiro assured readers of his 2010 commentary that it was
not meant as an attack on the food industry, noting the many ben-
efits of modern methods of food production, manufacture, distri-
bution, and sale. He did note, however, that the piece was “indeed
implicitly sharply critical of the current policies and practices of
food and drink manufacturers, caterers and associated indus-
tries, whose profits currently depend on the sale of what are
termed here ultra-processed products.”59
Monteiro and his collaborators’ central claim was that the

rapid rise of ultra-processed food and drinks since the 1980s was
the primary cause of the global rise in obesity and related dis-
eases because of their energy density, appeal, and availability.60
They initially outlined three categories of food: unprocessed or
minimally processed, processed, and ultra-processed. Later itera-
tions of the system would have four groups but remained focused
on identifying the characteristics of those foods most important to
limit in pursuit of better population health, that is, u ltra-processed
foods. Monteiro and coauthors described ultra-processed foods as
“edible and usually very palatable” but “not real foods,” yet d
istinct
from other forms of processed foods. What set u ltra-processed
products apart was that they “are not made from foods. They are
made from ingredients,” some of which are derived from foods
(e.g., oils, fats, flours, and sugars) but most of which are additives
that “make the product look, smell, feel and taste like food.”61 They
called the impact of such products a “public health catastrophe”
not just because of how they were made but also because of how
they were consumed: “any time, everywhere.” U ltra-processed
foods were energy dense, hyper-palatable, very easy to con-
sume, falsely seen as healthy, and aggressively advertised and
marketed.62 By 2014 the NOVA classification was being used by
researchers around the world to track and analyze changes in
dietary patterns, assess the impact of industrial food processing
on overall quality of diets, and study the availability of ultra-
processed products in urban settings. It was also incorporated into
the Brazilian Ministry of Health’s official Dietary Guidelines.63
It didn’t take long for Monteiro’s ideas to be picked up by
the US press and taken up by the many advocates for food and
health reform who were already embracing a “big picture
approach,” raising alarm about problems with processed food,
and challenging established nutritional expertise. A week after
Monteiro’s commentary was published, CBS News published an

online article, “What a Junk Food Diet Tells Us about the Dis-
mal State of Nutrition Science,” describing Monteiro’s “chiding”
of fellow nutrition scientists, introducing readers to the term
“ultra-processed food,” and making connections to the work

of “food industry nemesis,” Michael Pollan.64 Over the next few
years the concept of u ltra-processed food went from unknown
to part of the vernacular of eating right. Uptake of the term
and concern about ultra-processed foods spiked in 2016 follow-
ing the publication on BMJ Open of a study by Monteiro and his
team in collaboration with researchers from Tufts showing that
ultra-processed foods made up more than half of all calories
consumed in the US and contributed to nearly 90 percent of all
sugar intake.65 An Atlantic article covering the study opened by
noting that Pollan’s advice “that people should ‘eat food, not too
much, mostly plants’ is oft-quoted, less oft-followed.” It went on:
“Once again, research has demonstrated that Americans actu-
ally tend to eat food, too much, mostly things that are no longer
recognizable as plants, if they ever were,” and ended by making
up a “ Pollan-esque mantra” for cutting out “ultra-processed sugar
bombs” like soda: “Drink l iquids, not too sugary, mostly water.”66
While the term “ultra-processed food” referred to a category of
foods that public health professionals deemed particularly dan-
gerous to eaters, like “Big Food,” its meaning and salience were
rooted in critiques not just of highly processed food itself but also
of the limits of nutrition science as a way of knowing good food.
TECHNOLOGICAL RISK AND DEREGULATION
Ideas about good food, in flux for all the reasons described
above, were at the same time transformed by changing attitudes
about the use of technology in food production that reframed
processed food as risky and added to growing skepticism about

the food industry and its relationship to scientific authority. After
decades in which science and technology were understood to
make naturally occurring risks manageable, toward the end of
the twentieth century, people became increasingly aware of, and
sensitive to, risks generated by science and industry.
As Ulrich Beck has famously argued, during this time risk
became a defining attribute of Western societies, as people became
increasingly aware of the negative effects of scientific and tech-
nological developments, the benefits of which they increasingly
took for granted.67 Unlike danger, which was perceived as out-
side one’s control, risk was a unique state in which harm seemed
imminent, and something should be done about it. While identify-
ing and avoiding risk became a shared preoccupation, risks were
complex and largely invisible. Navigating them required reliance
on scientific expertise, but the public lost faith in experts to both
manage risks and communicate with the public about them. In
this c ontext defining risk, and the questions about risk that were
important to ask, became increasingly politically fraught.68
It was within these broader dynamics of risk that the public
became especially sensitive to risks associated with food pro-
duction, including agriculture and processing, and increasingly
skeptical of information about food-related risk provided by sci-
ence, industry, and the government.69 Concerns about the purity
and safety of the food supply had been around for a very long time,
but technological changes that accompanied twentieth-century
industrialization, such as the growing use of chemicals in food
production and the industrialization of agriculture, raised new
concerns about risks related to everything from chemical addi-
tives, preservatives, and packaging to the use of antibiotics in
animal agriculture.70 The internet emerged alongside these
changes, providing new means of communicating about food
risks, while traditional media sources also paid increasing atten-

tion to claims and counterclaims about food risks.71
Agriculture technologies, such as genetic engineering and
pesticides, and food processing technologies, such as artifi-
cial ingredients, were all called into question. All of this led to
changing understandings of good food; where people had pre-
viously a
ssociated risk with natural foods, they came instead to
associate risk with processed food and healthiness with “real”
food.72 But public concerns about the role of technology in the
food system were not simply about healthiness, or even food
safety.73 They also included the ecological impacts of the ongo-
ing pursuit of efficiency and productivity through technological
solutions, as seen in the food movements described above. And
they included growing skepticism about expert claims related to
new technologies in the food system. The use of biotechnology in
food production, for example, became highly politicized at the
intersection of concerns about health, environmental effects,
power, and inequality in the global food system and doubts
about the ability of experts to understand public concerns and
effectively regulate risks.74
At the same time that the public became more sensitive to
risks from technologies used in food production, the regula-
tory landscape for food in the US loosened and responsibility for
self-protection was largely shifted to individual consumers. These
changes reflected neoliberalism’s privatization of state functions
and deregulation of markets.75 But the regulatory system for food
in the US was already built around a “proof of harm” model that
favored industry. In Better Safe Than Sorry, the sociologist Norah
MacKendrick describes this as a “safe-until-sorry” approach
because it required evidence of harm to accumulate before restric-
tions were put into place. This contrasts with a policy approach
based on the precautionary principle, in which regulators priori-

tize preventing harm to human health or the e
nvironment, even
when evidence is inconclusive. While this model has been at the
center of European environmental policy since the 1970s, the US
has taken a “hostile approach” to the precautionary principle,
which has been framed by business interests as a threat to inno-
vation and economic growth.76
According to MacKendrick, during the 1990s a regulatory
system already favoring industry through its proof-of-harm ori-
entation turned decidedly toward encouraging innovation and
profit rather than environmental protection and public health.77
When it came to agricultural pesticides, the 1996 Food Qual-
ity Protection Act (FQPA) adopted an unusually precautionary
approach and was designed to ensure reasonable certainty of
lack of harm from pesticide residues in food. However, as Mac
Kendrick explains, it was never implemented in a way that would
allow it to achieve these aims. The FQPA was meant to consider
aggregate exposure to pesticides from food and other sources, but
only a small amount of food was tested, tolerance levels were set
higher than those in the European Union (EU), and testing and
monitoring were split among agencies and divisions within agen-
cies. For example, the USDA collected data on residue but was
not able to use it for regulatory purposes, and the FDA was not
required to test for all tolerances set by the Environmental Pro-
tection Agency (EPA). According to the US Government Account-
ability Office, testing methods used by the FDA and the USDA were
“insufficient for safeguarding public health.” In response to the
poor implementation of the FQPA, environmental groups worked
to raise public awareness about insufficient monitoring of pesti-
cide residues on food and provide tools to help consumers avoid
them. The Environmental Working Group (EWG), for example,
began publishing its annual “Dirty Dozen Guide” calling out

fruits and vegetables with high residue levels in 2004.78
As MacKendrick notes, the 1990s were also a turning point for
the regulation of c hemical additives used in processed foods. To
lessen a backlog of applications from companies seeking to intro-
duce new chemicals, the FDA expanded GRAS (Generally Rec-
ognized as Safe) certification, originally intended for additives
known to be safe, to allow processors to bypass formal review
of new additives (except colors). GRAS was created as part of a
1958 food additive law that assumed all new substances would go
through a rigorous review process but established a list of sub-
stances that were generally recognized as safe, such as spices,
salt, and yeast. The process of getting new substances onto the
GRAS list was far easier than getting them approved through the
review process, and many companies took advantage of this. But
in 1997 the FDA made a change to the rules that opened the flood-
gates and basically sidelined the more stringent process. Rather
than petition the FDA to review an item that a company wanted to
add to the list, in the new process companies only needed to notify
the FDA after making their own safety assessment. Companies
were supposed to adhere to guidelines for making those assess-
ments, but they were nonbinding and the agency provided no
oversight regarding the qualifications of those enlisted to conduct
the reviews.79 A 2011 report on food additives by the Pew Charita-
ble Trust found that a third or more of the ten thousand chemicals
that could be put in food were never formally reviewed by the
FDA.80 An updated report published by Pew in 2013 determined
“the FDA regulatory system is plagued with systemic problems”
that prevented the agency from ensuring that additives allowed
in food are safe. It noted, among other things, that it was impos-
sible for the agency to connect an additive to health problems
because it had not been notified of an estimated one thousand

chemicals used in food, had not been informed of actual usage for
all chemicals, and had not been alerted to studies suggesting pre-
viously unknown potential health effects.81
Also in the 1990s, the first genetically modified food—the Flavr
Savr tomato—arrived in US stores with no labeling requirement.
While the EU, oriented to the precautionary principle, restricted
the use of genetically modified organisms in agriculture begin-
ning in 2001, the US was far more permissive. In the absence of
restrictions, US consumers and environmental groups began to
demand labels that would allow them to at least decide for them-
selves if they wanted to consume foods produced using biotech-
nology. The nonprofit Non-GMO project was launched in 2007
and by 2017 had verified the absence of genetically modified
organisms in over forty-three thousand products. Meanwhile,
food industry trade groups spent decades successfully lobbying
against mandatory labeling.82
Within this confluence of heightened risk awareness and reg-
ulatory laxity, food became an acute arena of risk negotiation for
both the food industry and the public. Working largely through
trade associations, the food industry sought to downplay risks
related to food, while individual eaters decided for themselves
what to put into their own bodies or feed to their families.83 Pres-
sure to avoid technological risks related to food was especially
acute for women, as powerful ideologies of motherhood made
them responsible not only for their own health but also for the
safety and purity of children. MacKendrick and others have
found that women across the class spectrum experienced intense
pressure to produce both healthy children and a healthy planet by
providing “safe” and “clean” food.84 Mothers sought out what they
thought of as “organic” food, which was not necessarily certified
organic but considered “pure, uncontaminated, and lacking the

chemicals used in conventional industrial agriculture.”85 In
the absence of a precautionary regulatory environment, they
adopted time-, labor-, and resource-intensive shopping routines
to provide the safest possible food for their families.86
Meanwhile, guides, labels, and shopping environments
evolved to help shoppers avoid technological risks but at the same
time amplified risk awareness and the pressure to avoid poten-
tially dangerous ingredients. A steady stream of consumer guides,
such as the “Dirty Dozen,” were designed to help people avoid
harm but also raised awareness of potential risks. MacKendrick
found over twenty-seven organizations publishing consumer
guides to help people avoid chemical toxins in food. Together, they
recommended over sixty actions that consumers should take to
protect themselves. Choosing certified organic fruits and vege-
tables was among the most common recommendations, but the
guides also urged shoppers to avoid synthetic additives (artifi-
cial colors, thickeners, and sweeteners), stay away from canned
food, and cook from scratch to avoid processed food.87 Retail envi-
ronments, such as Whole Foods Markets, also amplified concerns
about risk in the context of helping consumers navigate them.
Their quality standards and the free-from claims on packages up
and down the aisles simultaneously established reasons for con-
cern and sold solutions to them.88 According to MacKendrick’s
interviews, women shopped in these curated retail spaces and
looked for certified organic food and other promises of purity “as
a reaction to the increasing complexity, invisibility and secrecy
that
characterizes the industrial food system.”89 They under-
stood that c hoosing organic and “real” food was an inadequate
response to risk, but “it remain[ed] their only option.”90 These
shoppers, striving to negotiate heightened risk related to food
production in order to be good eaters and good mothers, were the

very same ones imagined and projected as irrationally fearful,
misinformed, and even antiscience by Kennedy, SciBabe, and
other Real Facts frame proponents.
The Real Food frame I describe here was not itself a social move-
ment but the result of distinct yet overlapping movements that
converged to change commonly held ideas about good food while
also challenging established scientific ways of knowing about
food and health. The activists, advocates, and social movements
that raised and sought to address concerns about obesity, the
ecological impacts of food production, the health effects of highly
processed food, and the confluence of technological risk and
deregulation offered a shared piece of advice for people wanting
to “eat right”: avoid processed food and choose real food instead.
While the idea that good food was real came from these distinct
concerns and movements, it also took on a life of its own, loosely
reflecting a generalized skepticism about processed food, the food
industry, and the industrial food system.
Told through a focus on what people understood and desired,
rather than what they were anxious about, the story of how good
food became “real” is not about ignorance, misinformation,
and the internet run amok. It shows that the Real Food frame
expressed a sociocultural view of good food that included and
was inseparable from political issues. These included how the
food industry leveraged its power to influence scientific research
and the public’s access to information about food, the impacts
that eating had beyond individual health, the structure of the
food system, and regulatory laxity. The Real Food frame didn’t
just challenge the goodness of processed food. It also chal-
lenged established scientific ways of thinking about good food
by insisting on the importance of questions that could not be

answered by science: What role should the food industry play in
promoting a healthier sociocultural environment for food choice?
What could a food system look like if it was driven by ecological
and cultural knowledge and values? How can dietary advice help
people understand food, beyond what nutrition can measure?
Can experts be trusted to understand public concerns about tech-
nology and effectively manage risks? Thus, the Real Food frame
was not antiscience, but it did challenge food scientism and the
food industry’s investment in it.
It was this insistence on broadening the lens for understanding
good food and asking questions that science could not answer that
Real Facts proponents insistently reframed as the result of defi-
cits of scientific knowledge. Focusing on the negative anxieties
propelling Americans away from processed foods and drawing
on established deficit models of the public understanding of sci-
ence, representatives of the food industry treated people seeking
to avoid processed food as irrationally fearful of things they did
not understand: the science of food formulation and processing,
the fact that all foods are made from chemicals, the reality that
nature is not benign, and so on. The rest of the chapters highlight
how the Real Facts frame foreclosed possibilities for the questions
about food, the food system, and scientific authority that drove
the Real Food frame to be taken seriously.
CHAPTER TWO
Real Food and Real Facts

in the Classroom
As the Real Food frame gained momentum, friction over “good

food” and the power to define it erupted all over the place. As
noted earlier, many tussles took place on the internet, where
Food Babe and SciBabe argued about dyes, colors, and creden-
tials and James Kennedy took on “chemophobia” with the ingre-
dients of an all-natural banana. At the same time, some tussles
involved the food industry contesting the claims of Real Food
frame proponents and defending its own power to define good
food. While I explore industry efforts that took place largely out-
side of the public’s view in later chapters, this chapter focuses
on a c ampaign that was aimed directly at the public itself. The
Real Food frame taught the public to ask where their food came
from and question whether the processed products of indus-
trial p
roduction were healthy, safe, and sustainable. One of the
most powerful food industry trade associations in the world,
the International Food Information Council, responded with
a grade school curriculum that focused on explaining and
celebrating the benefits of processed food.
63
64 / Real Food and Real Facts in the Classroom
According to its president, IFIC’s foray into the classroom was

prompted by the threat posed by the Oscar-nominated documen-
tary Food, Inc. and the Discussion Guide that had been distrib-
uted, along with DVDs of the film, to high schools nationwide.1
Food, Inc. was an explosion of Real Food challenges to corporate
narratives about food and the food system, vividly articulating
concerns about the health and safety of the food supply, negative
side effects of science and technology, and power and secrecy in
an increasingly consolidated food system. Released in June 2009
and then broadcast on PBS and released on DVD in 2010, the film
described itself as “an unflattering look inside America’s corpo-
rate controlled food industry,” promising audiences, “You’ll never
look at dinner the same way again.” A Variety review described it
as both cheery and politically urgent, a “civilized horror movie”
that did “for the supermarket what Jaws did for the beach.”2 The
film featured interviews with Michael Pollan, who was also a “spe-
cial consultant,” and Eric Schlosser, author of Fast Food Nation,
who was also a coproducer. The Discussion Guide that IFIC was
so concerned about was released in 2011 by Participant Media,
an entertainment company focused on social action content, in
collaboration with the Center for Ecoliteracy, known for its work
integrating sustainability into school curricula.3 It was made up
of nine chapters, each designed to be used alongside a chapter of
the film, and Participant Media distributed the guide along with
free DVDs of Food, Inc. to three thousand schools nationwide, in
addition to making it available online.4
The same year, IFIC launched the Alliance to Feed the Future,
whose signature initiative was a K–8 curriculum.5 The presi-
dent of IFIC described the curriculum as an effort to push back
against “misleading perceptions of food and agriculture” in the
movie Food, Inc. and the Food, Inc. Discussion Guide. He explained
that IFIC formed the Alliance, a collaboration with hundreds of
Real Food and Real Facts in the Classroom / 65
other organizations, to “provide balanced public dialogue about

how modern agriculture and food production benefits society.”6
According to a press release, the aim of the Alliance was “to tell
the real story of modern food production” in the face of increas-
ingly common misperceptions. At its inception, the organization
had 105 members, which it described as including “professional
societies and universities, educational organizations, and indus-
try and commodity groups.”7 However, its membership was pri-
marily composed of trade associations, for example, the A
merican
Meat Institute, International Dairy Foods Association, Ameri-
can Frozen Food Institute, Canned Food Alliance, International
Food Additives Council, Snack Foods Association, American Soy-
bean Association, Biotechnology Industry Association, Shelf Sta-
ble Food Processors Association, and many more. Members also
included educational organizations that represented industry and
commodity groups, such as American Farmers for the Advance-
ment and Conservation of Technology (AFACT), Council for Bio-
technology Information, American Society of Nutrition, Calorie
Control Council, and Council for Responsible Nutrition. A handful
of academic entities, including several colleges of agriculture and
departments of food science and technology, were also among
the members.8
The Alliance launched its first set of educational materials in
summer 2012. “Lunch Box Lessons: Professor G. U. Eatwell and
the Journey from Farm to Fork” was a downloadable K–8 curricu-
lum of around fifteen lesson plans for each of three grade ranges
(K–2, 3–5, 6–8), as well as classroom posters and parent take-home
pages.9 In November 2013 the Alliance issued an additional set
of lessons called “The Science of Feeding the World,” which had
one lesson per grade level geared to Next Generation Science
Standards. The curricula were funded by Farm Credit, the

nation’s largest agricultural lender, and designed by the Education
Center of Greensboro, North Carolina, a producer of ready-to-use

classroom materials.10 In 2014, IFIC president David Schmidt
announced that the materials had already reached 750,000 teach-
ers and 4.5 million students in the US.11
The Alliance lessons taught kids that processed foods provided
healthy choices and that technologies of “modern agriculture”
were necessary to feed a growing population, but they didn’t
just contest the facts that Food, Inc. presented. The stakes of this
encounter were much greater, having to do with how the public
was imagined in relation to the food system and the role students
were being prepared to play in it. While Food, Inc. imagined stu-
dents as citizens having the skills, capacity, and agency to shape
the food system, the Alliance imagined them solely as future con-
sumers, whose role was to willingly accept the products of the
food system.
As Regula Valérie Burri found in her comparative analysis of
how policy makers approached communication about nanotech-
nology in the US and Germany, “tacit assumptions” about the “ideal
form of the science-society relationship” shape how communica-
tors understand the purpose of information and education.12 This
includes different understandings and projections of the skills
and capabilities of the public and the role people are expected to
play in relation to the assessment and governance of technology.
Burri found, for example, that German nanotechnology imag-
inaries were “intrinsically political.”13 Similarly, the Food, Inc.
Discussion Guide was shaped by an intrinsically political imagi-
nary, in which the public was perceived and projected as respon-
sible, engaged, and able to acquire new knowledge to participate
in dialogue and decision making about the food system. In con-
trast, the lessons designed by the Alliance to Feed the Future were
shaped by a commercial imaginary. Their purpose was to pre-
pare students to act as informed and willing future consumers.
These contrasting imaginaries shaped which facts mattered

within the curricula and who had the agency to act in relation to
them. The rest of this chapter looks at how the tacit assumptions
of the Real Food and Real Facts frames about the ideal form of the
science-society relationship and the role of the public in the food
system shaped the aims and content of the Food, Inc. Discussion
Guide and the lessons created by the Alliance to Feed the Future.
It may be surprising that I take the claims in both sets of l essons
at face value. The purpose of this chapter is not to take exception
to Food, Inc.’s claims about the problems with corn in the food
system, the Alliance’s contention that frozen broccoli is better
than fresh, or any of the other claims presented in these lessons.
On the contrary, while conflicts between these two educational
campaigns and between the Real Food and Real Facts frames
more broadly may appear to be over the facts, or what is true
about the food system, Gussow reminds us to look beyond this
to understand what is really at stake. What really matters is the
kind of questions that are deemed important to ask and thus
the kinds of information and expertise that are considered rel-
evant.14 Inspired by Gussow, I seek primarily to understand
the q
uestions the Alliance deemed important to ask and the
information and forms of expertise it considered relevant in pre-
paring s tudents for their future role in the food system.
P R E PA R I NG AC T I V E C I T I Z E N S F OR T H E F O OD S Y S T E M
The goal of the Food, Inc. Discussion Guide was to prepare students
to actively participate in dialogue about the food system and play
a role in shaping it. This was clear from the very first pages of
the Discussion Guide, which opened with a letter from Zenobia
Barlow, cofounder and executive director of the Center for Eco-
literacy. In it, she described the role of educators as c hallenging
students to “think critically and to grapple with complex ques-

tions,” inspiring them to “become engaged citizens” and helping
them “gain the knowledge and skills they need in order to develop
sustainable solutions.”15 The letter was followed by a brief section
called “Using This Guide” that ended with learning objectives,
which included helping students “think through their own per-
ceptions, ideas, and solutions so that they are better prepared to
make thoughtful choices about food,” “develop the knowledge
and skills they need to participate in a meaningful public dia-
logue about food and the food system,” and “take action to address
food-related issues in their own lives.”16 In other words, the aim of
the Food, Inc. Discussion Guide was to produce thoughtful, knowl-
edgeable, active citizens of the food system.
The Discussion Guide’s approach to achieving these objectives
centered on Socratic discussions. A five-page section, “About Soc-
ratic Discussions,” described the value of this approach as well
as how to facilitate and assess the discussions. It explained, “Soc-
rates believed that helping students to think was more import-
ant than filling their minds with facts, and that questions—not
answers—are the driving force behind learning.” The sec-
tion then explained that Socratic discussions allow students
to “explore issues, ideas, and values in a meaningful way[,] . . .
face conflicting viewpoints, test their ideas against their peers,
and explore possible solutions.”17 Instructions noted that Socra-
tic discussions required a significant shift in the teacher’s role,
from teaching content to facilitating students’ exploration of their
own thinking. After showing a Food, Inc. chapter, they suggested
“Setting the Stage” by arranging chairs in a circle and reviewing
discussion guidelines. The next phase, “Opening the Discussion,”
began with asking the “Focus Question” the Guide provided for
each chapter of the film and allowing time for students to “think
and then respond freely to the question.” Teachers were to make it

very clear that they were not looking for specific answers and that
“in fact there is no right or wrong answer.” Their role was to ask
questions, “accept students’ responses,” help them clarify their
thinking, and encourage participation by all. The next phase,
“Deepening the Discussion,” used “deepening questions” to “help
students probe further into the topic and clarify their thinking.”18
Connections between learning about the food system, engag-
ing in debate and dialogue, and acting to shape the food system
were built into the lesson plans. Each chapter of the Discussion
Guide ended with “Ideas for Action,” suggested activities in which
students could express their opinions and practice acting in their
role as engaged citizens.19 These included writing letters to peo-
ple who have responsibility for making change in the food sys-
tem, learning more about advocacy groups, designing posters
or
brochures to share learning with others, debating positive
and negative impacts of specific technologies, researching laws,
exploring what it would take to make changes to rules in their
schools, talking to farmers to get their views on issues raised in
the film, and so on.
The Discussion Guide’s lessons reflected the Real Food frame’s
view that many forms of knowledge and expertise, not just sci-
ence, were important to understanding the food system. A section
titled “National Standards Correlations” included a long, var-
ied list of standards that the Guide was designed to meet across
English, geography, science, and social studies. Together, they
acknowledged social, economic, cultural, and political aspects of
the food system and sought to prepare students to understand and
act in relationship to this complexity. English standards focused
on critiquing texts and gathering information to create and com-
municate knowledge. A geography standard called “Environment
and Society” supported students in knowing and understand-

ing how resource development and use changes over time and
the results of policies and programs for resource use and man-
agement. Several social studies standards emphasized social
relations and power dynamics. “Individuals, Groups and Insti-
tutions,” for example, focused on evaluating the role of institu-
tions in continuity and change and analyzing the extent to which
groups and institutions meet individual needs and promote the
common good. “Power, Authority and Governance” examined
the rights, roles, and status of the individual in relation to general
welfare. “Production, Distribution, and Consumption” helped stu-
dents analyze the role supply, demand, price, incentives, and prof-
its play in determining what is produced in a market system.20
The National Standards Correlations also included some
related to science, but they situated scientific knowledge as part
of, not separate from, economic, social, cultural, and political con-
texts. For example, a social studies standard called “Science, Tech-
nology and Society” aimed for students to be able to analyze how
science and technology influence the core values, beliefs, and atti-
tudes of a society, and vice versa, and evaluate policies that have
been proposed to deal with social change resulting from new
technologies, such as genetically engineered plants and animals.
One “National Science Educational Standard” was also listed:
“Science in Personal and Social Perspectives.” The objective was
for students to develop an understanding of “personal and com-
munity health; natural resources; environmental quality; natu-
ral and human-induced hazards; [and] science and technology in
local, national, and global challenges.” 21
While the National Standards Correlations implicitly reflected
the questions about the food system that the Discussion Guide
deemed it important to ask, and thus the forms of knowledge
and expertise that its authors considered relevant, the lessons

themselves addressed knowledge politics explicitly. The offi-
cial synopsis of Food, Inc. described it as a film that “lifts the veil
on our nation’s food industry, exposing the highly mechanized
underbelly that’s been hidden from the American consumers
with the consent of our government’s regulatory agencies, USDA
and FDA.”22 The film thus reflected the assumption, advanced by
Pollan and other Real Food advocates, that giving the public access
to knowledge and information about the food system could be the
basis for a large-scale social movement to reshape it in the pub-
lic’s interest.23 The Discussion Guide aimed to bring this informa-
tion to classrooms, where high school students could learn about
both hidden parts of the food system and the politics of knowl-
edge in the course of becoming active citizens of the food system.
The film began with Schlosser describing a “world deliber-
ately hidden from us” and talking about his quest as an inves-
tigative journalist to “lift the veil.” The first chapter included,
among other things, his visit to a Tyson chicken farm where a
farmer explains that he would have liked to show the film crew
the chicken house, but Tyson forbids him from doing so. Another
farmer, breaking the rules, provides a grim look into what she
derides as her “chicken factory.”24 Deepening Questions in the
Discussion Guide include, “As consumers, do we have the right
to know how the chickens we eat are being raised? Do we want to
know?” A handout showed those involved in raising chickens: a
chicken, a farmer, a farmworker, a consumer, and a president of
a poultry company. Students were instructed to draw lines
between those who are directly connected and put a star next to
the individual who was most valued and an X next to the one who
was least valued, then rank all of them in order of who has the
most and least rights.25
The next chapter began with Pollan also discussing the politics
of information: “It seems to me that we are entitled to know about
our food, who owns it, how they are making it. . . . [C]an I have
a look in the kitchen?”26 The Focus Question in the Discussion
Guide was, “Do people have a right to know what is in their food?,”
and the lesson led students to explore the limits of the informa-
tion available on food labels. Deepening Questions explored why
people tend to be surprised when they learn how much corn is in
their diet, asking, “Do you think the government and food pro-
ducers kept it a secret?” and “How do you feel about ingredients
being included without your knowledge?” Then students were
prompted to consider whose job it is to inform the public: “Is it our
responsibility to find out, the producer’s responsibility to make it
more clear, or both?”27
Chapter 8, “The Veil,” was pointedly about power dynamics
that constrained the information about food the public had access
to and the political stakes of that knowledge. The film described
a revolving door between corporations such as Monsanto, the
government, and the judicial bodies that are supposed to be reg-
ulating them and shows how this dynamic forecloses public
debate about the use of technologies in food production. Schlosser
describes “power, centralized power” as being used to d
eliberately
“keep consumers in the dark about what they are e
ating, where
it comes from and what it’s doing to their bodies.” He describes
companies fighting “tooth and nail” against labeling and pursu-
ing legislation making it against the law to criticize their products
through libel laws. Pollan asserts that “one of the most import-
ant battles for consumers to fight is the right to know what is in
their food and how it was grown.”28 The Discussion Guide’s Focus
Question was, “Should a company have the power to decide what
information to give consumers about the food it produces?”29
The final chapter, “Shocks to the System,” also made the Dis-
cussion Guide’s assumptions about the politics of information
and the role of the public in the food system explicit. It engaged
viewers and students as agents in the food system with the
power to shape it through both consumer choices and individ-
ual and collective actions outside of the marketplace.30 A synop-
sis of the film chapter noted, “While the average consumer may
feel powerless in the face of these issues and vastness of the food
system, the system does respond to consumer demand.” The film
looked at the role consumer pressure played in Walmart switch-
ing to rBST-free milk and drew parallels with the fight against
tobacco, which Schlosser describes as a “perfect model” of how
an industry’s irresponsible behavior can be changed. The Dis-
cussion Guide described the chapter as offering “hope that indi-
vidual and collective actions can make a difference and move
us toward creating a more sustainable food system.”31 The Focus
Question was, “What individual or collective actions are you
willing to take to improve our food system, and what would be
their impact?”32
A Deepening Question for this final chapter asked, “Aside
from the supermarket, in what other arenas can individuals and
groups make an impact on our food system?” Another asked stu-
dents to reflect on Pollan’s argument in the film that “we need
changes at the policy level so that the carrots are a better deal than
the chips” and to discuss whether “changing policy or inform-
ing the public about health benefits and environmental impacts”
would be more effective at changing people’s food choices. An
“Idea for Action” suggested students should agree on actions
to pursue, develop action plans, identify which steps they need to
take are collective and which are individual, follow through with
the support of the teacher, and report their results to the class.
Another suggested they identify key representatives involved in

farm or food policy and write to them, advocating for specific
changes in current policies. The chapter ended with a “Things you
can do” handout, with the subheading, “You can vote to change the
system. Three times a day.” The list that followed included actions
students could take in the market (“Buy from companies that
treat workers, animals, and the environment with respect”) and
outside the market (“Make sure your local farmers market takes
food stamps. Ask your school board to provide healthy school
lunches,” “Tell Congress to enforce food safety laws”).33
The Food, Inc. Discussion Guide was shaped by and pursued
an intrinsically political imaginary of the public. Its approach to
education and the facts that it considered relevant reflected tacit
assumptions about “the ideal form of the science-society relation-
ship,” the skill and capacities of the public, and the role that stu-
dents would play in the food system.34 It assumed that students
were learning about the food system so that they could engage in
dialogue about it and play a role in shaping it through their own
actions. The way the learning process was structured, through
film screenings followed by “rigorously thoughtful Socratic dis-
cussions,” assumed that students were capable of reflecting
critically on the way things were and forming legitimate opin-
ions about how they should be. Prompts at the end of each les-
son explicitly guided students outside of the classroom, where it
was assumed they could and should take action to make changes
they deemed important. The emphasis on social science knowl-
edge and expertise reflected an understanding that the food sys-
tem was shaped by a complex set of conditions—including power
dynamics and politics—that required more than scientific knowl-
edge to understand. The chapters explicitly politicized knowledge
about the food system and clearly prepared students to engage in
a critical challenge to the food system, starting with a refusal of

the way things were.
P R E PA R I NG W I L L I NG C ON S U M E R S
The creators of the Alliance lessons assumed that the Real

Food frame’s concerns about the food system, including those
expressed in Food, Inc., were the result of lack of knowledge and
understanding. A press release announcing the formation of the
Alliance explained that its members “share the common goal of
building understanding and promoting the benefits of modern
food production, processing and technology.”35 When the first
lessons were released in July 2012, IFIC president David Schmidt
described them as responding to ignorance and misinformation:
“More than ever, Americans are separated from farming and
d istribution of the foods we all enjoy and are exposed to misin-
formation and myths about modern food and agricultural pro-
duction.” Alliance members, he went on, “believe it is crucial
that accurate and straightforward information be made avail-
able to teachers, students and parents to demystify the process
by which food is produced.” Another press release explained,
“The more consumers understand how their food is produced,
the more they can appreciate the role modern agriculture plays
in providing safe, affordable, and nutritious food.”36 In contrast
to the Discussion Guide, then, the Alliance imagined that it was
preparing students to play the role of willing consumers rather
than active citizens. The way it approached educating students,
the skills it assumed students needed, and the facts it deemed
relevant were all shaped by this commercial imaginary of the
public and the ideal form of the science-society relationship that
it reflected.
The pedagogical approach of the Alliance lessons was not

explained up front as it was in the Discussion Guide, but,
reflecting the Real Facts frame’s emphasis on expert knowledge,
the lessons were structured around a didactic transfer of infor-
mation from the lesson plans to teachers and from teachers to
students. Each lesson plan provided introductory text about the
topic the lesson covered as well as instructions and materials for
one or more activities. There were detailed scripts telling teachers
how to lead students through the activities, including questions
to ask with the correct answers provided in italics. Exactly what
students were to take away from various activities was explicit in
each lesson plan; results of activities and experiments were care-
fully framed to support the core message of the curriculum about
the benefits of modern food technologies.
The Alliance lessons pushed back against Food, Inc.’s embrace
of dialogue, critical thinking, and personal opinions, as well as its
insistence that the questions worth asking about the food system
had to do with the social, economic, political, cultural, and envi-
ronmental factors that shaped it. Instead, the lessons focused on
correcting presumed deficits of scientific knowledge and under-
standing. As Brian Wynne explains, deficit thinking is an inevi-
table result of “a culture of scientism” in which it is assumed that
support for a particular policy position is determined by scien-
tific fact: “Some kind of public deficit model explanation of pub-
lic rejection or mistrust ‘of science’ is almost preordained as a
function of this scientistic, culturally entrenched premise about
the basic meaning of the issue at hand.” The variations of defi-
cit thinking most prevalent in Alliance lessons resembled three
described by Wynne in his 2006 list of “public deficit models of
mistrust of science—abandoned but reinvented (ca 1990 to the
present).” The models include public deficits of understanding of
scientific knowledge, public deficits of trust in science, and public
deficits of knowledge of the benefits of science. All of these were

accompanied by what Wynne describes as an underlying assump-
tion that public responses are emotional, “epistemologically
empty,” and susceptible to misinformation.37
While all Alliance lessons were shaped by the deficit think-
ing characteristic of the Real Facts frame, among the larger
set of forty-five lessons issued in 2012 there were units for each
grade level that focused specifically on addressing, or preempt-
ing, deficits of scientific knowledge or understanding that might
turn people away from processed food and make them critical of
the industrial food system. Though these lessons were designed
to meet Common Core standards in English, writing, and math,
their emphasis was explaining the role of modern food technolo-
gies, extolling their benefits, and portraying them as safe, famil-
iar, natural, and desirable.38 For example, a unit for third- through
fifth-graders called “Understanding the Modern Food System”
included the lesson, “A Super System: Understanding the Benefits of
the Modern Food Production System.” The instructions explained,
“At this learning center, students understand how m
odern tech-
nology has helped make our food system safe, convenient and
accessible year-round.” The lesson came with sixteen “Food Sys-
tem Innovation Cards” and four “Activity Labels.” The instructions
told the teacher to prepare by gluing each activity label to a sep-
arate paper plate. The labels read, “Improves safety,” “Improves
efficiency (more work with fewer people),” “Increases the amount
of food produced,” and “Makes products more convenient for con-
sumers.” In the activity, students chose an innovation card, each
of which highlighted a particular innovation, such as the refrig-
erator, chemical fertilizer, barbed-wire, flash freezing, the bread
slicing machine, the mechanical tomato harvester, and the use
of satellites to monitor farm fields. Then they placed the cards on
the plate that “best describes the innovation’s benefit” (Fig. 2).39
Figure 2. Illustrated example from the lesson “A Super System,” showing how
students should sort “Food System Innovation Cards” according to their bene-
fits. © 2012 Alliance to Feed the Future, www.alliancetofeedthefuture.org. Text
and design by The Education Center, Inc. The development of this curriculum is
made possible, in part, by a grant from Farm Credit.
Similarly, a unit for sixth- through eighth-graders called “Buzz-

words” included a lesson about unfamiliar ingredients called
“It All Adds Up!” The lesson aimed to correct or preempt concerns
about unfamiliar chemicals in food by explaining their purpose
and benefits, emphasizing their connection to natural or famil-
iar foods, and assuring students of their safety. The lesson plan
began, “Is sodium bicarbonate in your bread? What about thia-
mine mononitrate? Yep, they’re both there—and they’re sup-
posed to be! Sodium bicarbonate is baking soda, and thiamine
mononitrate is vitamin B1.” It continued, “In fact, every food we

eat, whether it’s picked from the garden or pre-made and pack-
aged, is made up of chemical compounds. However, when stu-
dents read a food label, that list of long names may be unfamiliar.”
A text box in the top corner of the lesson read, “Fun Fact: The Food
and Drug Administration has a list of more than 3,000 ingredients
that can be added to foods, all of which are regulated for safety.”
The lesson came with twenty-seven “Food Ingredient Cards”
representing eleven categories. Each card highlighted one ingre-
dient category, describing its benefits, and then introduced an
example of an ingredient in that category. For example, there
were four “color additives” cards explaining that color additives
“enhance a food’s natural color or add color to colorless foods”;
each introduced a specific example, such as FD&C Blue No. 1, “one
of nine certified color additives approved for use in the US,” and
beta-carotene, which “adds orange color to foods, found naturally
in carrots.” All the color additive cards had the same final line:
“The Food and Drug Administration regulates all color additives
to ensure they are safe.” Two “fat replacers” cards explained they
provide texture in reduced-fat foods; one introduced guar gum,
which “comes from a shrub in the bean family,” and the other
xanthan gum, “made by fermenting corn sugar.” “Emulsifiers,”
described as creating smoothness and keeping ingredients from
separating, included soy lecithin, which comes from soybeans,
and sorbitan monostearate, found in whipped topping. And so on.
The lesson plan instructed teachers to hand out a card to each stu-
dent and challenge them to form groups based on the ingredient
categories. Next, each group used chart paper to list the purpose
of each additive in their category. Finally, the teachers invited
students to come up with a motto for their category such as
“less spoiling, less waste!” for the preservatives group or “we’re so
smooth!” for the emulsifiers (Figs. 3–5).40
Figure 3. FD&C Blue No. 1 “Food Ingredient Card” from the

lesson “It All Adds Up!” © 2012 Alliance to Feed the Future,
www.alliancetofeedthefuture.org. Text and design by The
Education Center, Inc. The development of this curriculum is
made possible, in part, by a grant from Farm Credit.
The second set of lessons, issued in 2013 to support Next Gener-

ation Science Standards, was also haunted by deficit thinking but,
in addition, exemplified other aspects of food scientism. These les-
sons exhibited what Christopher Mayes and Donald Thompson
refer to as “attitudinal scientism,” in which assumptions about
the primacy of science are expressed and reinforced through the
use of images, concepts, and practices associated with science.41
As they explain in a Journal of Bioethical Inquiry symposium on
scientism, such references are used by people to “‘add weight to
arguments which they are advancing, or to practices which they
Figure 4. Guar gum “Food Ingredient Card” from the lesson

“It All Adds Up!” © 2012 Alliance to Feed the Future, www
.alliancetofeedthefuture.org. Text and design by The Educa-
tion Center, Inc. The development of this curriculum is made
possible, in part, by a grant from Farm Credit.
are promoting, or to values and policies whose adoption they are

advocating.’”42 The mascot for the Alliance lessons, “Professor G. U.
Eatwell,” is a great example of this: the smiling woman scientist in
a lab coat was technically associated with all the Alliance lessons
but appeared most frequently in the Next Generation Science Stan-
dard series (Fig. 6). More importantly, the lessons enacted attitudi-
nal scientism through their association with the Next Generation
Science Standards and by taking the form of science lessons.
Consisting of just one lesson per grade plus classroom post-
ers, the lessons supported science learning standards that had
Figure 5. Sorbitan monostearate “Food Ingredient Card”

from the lesson “It All Adds Up!” © 2012 Alliance to Feed
the Future, www.alliancetofeedthefuture.org. Text and
design by The E
ducation Center, Inc. The development of this
curriculum is made possible, in part, by a grant from Farm
Credit.
recently been developed by a consortium of twenty-six states,

along with the National Science Teachers Association, the
American Association for the Advancement of Science, and
the National Research Council.43 Each lesson plan noted the
standard it was correlated with, described an “application,” and
used the same introductory text, which read, “Farmers from
around the world grow the food we enjoy each day,” and then
listed the steps that “get food from the farm to the dinner table.”
Following this, each presented an experiment in which students
Figure 6. One of many illustra-

tions of Professor G. U. Eatwell that
appear throughout the Alliance to
Feed the Future’s lessons, this one is
from “Watching Mold Grow.” © 2013
A lliance to Feed the Future, www
.alliancetofeedthefuture.org. Text and
design by The Education Center, LLC.
The development of this curriculum
is made possible, in part, by a grant
from Farm Credit.
learned about a particular food system technology, including

carefully scripted instructions directing teachers to interpret the
activity in terms of the technology’s benefits.
For example, a lesson for first-graders called “Watching Mold
Grow” was designated as meeting an engineering design stan-
dard (K-2-ETS1-1) related to defining a simple problem that can be
solved through the development of a new or improved object or
tool. The “Application” section explained, “With food processing,
foods stay fresher longer and less food is wasted. This experiment
gives students a chance to see how preservatives extend our food
supply.” The lesson began with the teacher initiating a conver-
sation about how often students eat toast or sandwiches, asking
what the one item is that they need to make both (bread!) and then
asking if they have ever opened a bag of bread to find it moldy. The
teacher was told to “talk about the fact that scientists have cre-
ated special ingredients called preservatives” that “keep food safe
by preventing bacteria from growing, keeping food fresh longer,
and preventing waste.” Next came an experiment in which the
teacher put two pieces of bread—one with p
reservatives and
the other without—into plastic bags, sprayed them with water,
and had students record their observations every couple of days.
The lesson plan provided questions for the teachers to ask about
what students observed and the correct answers: “Why do you
think one slice of bread has mold on it and the other doesn’t? Pre-
servatives help to keep food fresh longer. How do preservatives
affect the amount of food we have? Less waste means we get to eat
more of the food we grow; we don’t have to throw as much away.”44
Reflecting the food scientism of the Real Facts frame, the lesson
both provided information to correct or prevent deficits (i.e., the
facts about what preservatives do) and used scientific references,
including the Next Generation Science Standards designation
and the format of a science experiment, to “add weight” to the
arguments, practices, and priorities the Alliance was promoting.45
The lesson for third-graders was called “Fortified for Health”
and met an engineering standard (3-5-ETS1-2) involving improv-
ing “existing technologies or developing new ones to increase
their benefits, decrease known risks, and meet societal demands.”
Focusing on the benefits of fortification, the lesson recalls what
Gussow said in her 1980 presidential address regarding the
assumptions about the aims and trajectory of the food system that
shape the questions people deem important to ask when faced
with the facts about fiber (fiber is important to health, and pro-
cessing removes fiber).46 The application section explained that
fortification adds vitamins and minerals to food to “make it more
healthful and help people meet their recommended daily intake
of different nutrients.” The lesson began with a discussion that
introduced the term “fortification,” noting that examples included

adding fiber to promote digestive health and that the purpose
of fortification is “to provide more nutrients in the foods people
eat.” Next, the class discussed orange juice fortified with calcium
or vitamin D and did a taste test to confirm that they could not
tell the difference from regular juice. Then they discussed forti-
fied breakfast cereal, focusing on iron and reasons bodies need it.
Finally, the class conducted an experiment that involved crush-
ing a bag of cereal fortified with iron, noting that the iron was not
visible. The class then explored other ways to prove that iron had
been added; after filling the bag halfway with water and letting
it sit for a while, students watched as the teacher placed a strong
magnet on the outside of the bag and observed the tiny black
specks attracted to it.47 Through a similar format and also meet-
ing Next Generation Science Standards, students in others grades
learned about the benefits of dehydration, ingredients that sup-
port special dietary needs such as diabetes and high cholesterol,
technologies that allow food to be transported around the world,
advancements in processing and packaging that allow food to
be stored for longer periods of time, packaging technology that
reduces food waste, and technologies that can extend the growing
season such as hydroponics.48
Advocating for the safety and benefits of processing technolo-
gies and processed foods in the form of science experiments, with
encouragement from Professor G. U. Eatwell, these lessons, along
with those meeting Common Core standards, set out to fix knowl-
edge and trust deficits. Shaped by the food scientism of the Real
Facts frame, they treated the concerns of the public as a misun-
derstanding of science and framed the entire landscape of values,
priorities, and policies involved in the food system as a matter of
scientific knowledge, subject to scientific authority and value neu-
tral. But, as Wynne argues and Food, Inc. made very clear, public
concerns about the uses of technology tend to be driven not by

deficits but by questions about the values shaping innovation,
who benefits, and the impacts across human, social, and cultural
systems.49 The Alliance lessons enacted antipolitics by treating
these concerns as nothing more than deficits that could be cor-
rected with the right information. They furthered this antipoli-
tics in the service of a commercial imaginary of the public, in
which the public was assumed to lack the skills and capacities
to engage in shaping the food system and was seen solely as con-
sumers. Asserting this imaginary over and against Food, Inc.’s
vision, in which students were being prepared to act as engaged
and knowledgeable agents within the food system, the Alliance
lessons prepared students to embrace the products of the food sys-
tem as future consumers.
FOOD A N D HE A LT H A S POLI T ICS
I now turn to the central content of the two curricula: stories

about where food comes from and advice about what to do about
health. Building on the preceding analysis, I look beyond surface
differences in these accounts to explore how they were shaped by
different assumptions about what food and health were. As the
philosopher of food Michiel Korthals explains, competing food
system frames are often shaped by overlooked differences in nor-
mative assumptions about what food is. He argues this is not only
“an abstract definition issue, but also a power play that goes into
the details.”50 He goes on to describe what he sees as the material
effects of ontological differences, or differences in “what counts
as food.”
The answer to the question of what counts as food selects certain
items and actions in the world and excludes others; the answer
d iscloses the world of food in a particular way and structures there-

fore normative ontological issues with wide reaching institutional
and cultural implications. These ontological assumptions do not
only regard perceptions, but ways people act upon an event that is
seen as food, build networks of food, solve problems, and connect
food with other events in the world.51
In other words, the meanings of food that animate competing food

system frames such as Real Food and Real Facts matter because,
usually without being recognized or acknowledged, they deter-
mine the kinds of questions and expertise that matter, the courses
of action that seem sensible, and the actors who are deemed rel-
evant for solving food system problems.52 Each of the examples
Korthals uses to explain his argument—biofortification, obesity,
nutrigenomics—makes a further point about the relationship
between what counts as food and what it means to pursue health;
they are inseparable. For example, in the case of nutrigenomics,
food is understood in terms of disease prevention and health and
therefore is a state preceding the possibility of disease in which
food choices can reduce risk. Other assumptions follow from this,
including that minimizing disease risk through food choices is an
individual responsibility.53 The work of the theorist Annemarie
Mol has also shown that what counts as food varies in different
dieting techniques and is related to different understandings of
the body.54 Like the imaginaries of the public discussed above, the
versions of food and health animating the Food, Inc. and Alliance
curricula were in one case intrinsically political and in the other
decidedly antipolitical.
In the Food, Inc. Discussion Guide, food was understood as a
complex set of interconnections. What counted as food in the les-
sons was not simply matter that humans consume to sustain life
and growth (dictionary definition) or the products of a food system
designed to deliver nutrition, convenience, and pleasure (Alliance

understanding, as discussed below).55 Food was not a discrete
bounded object at all but inextricably and fundamentally con-
nected to broader systems—economic, cultural, social, p
olitical,
environmental—and thus the welfare of other humans and non-
human animals. The film and the lessons focused on these con-
nections. The first chapter, for example, told the story of where
food comes from by looking at connections between human and
nonhuman animal welfare, with questions exploring the kinds
of rights animals should have. The next explored links between
corn subsidies, the cost of meat, confined animal feeding opera-
tions (CAFOs), and the proliferation of both dangerous forms of E.
coli and regulatory laxity regarding those dangers. A subsequent
chapter connected those same policies to disproportionate rates of
obesity and diabetes in low-income communities via the prolifera-
tion of cheap corn, soy, and wheat-based products (“bad calories”),
while prices for healthier produce were, for many, prohibitive.
The point of revealing the connections that made up this ver-
sion of food was to explicitly politicize food, the food system, the
actions of consumers, and the actions of those working within
the food system. In keeping with the public health orientation and
ecological thinking of the Real Food frame, the lessons made it
clear that the point of understanding “where food comes from”
was to reveal “costs” long buried by dominant but mistaken
notions of food that failed to include such connections and their
consequences. The first chapter explained that “while industrially
produced food appears inexpensive, the price we pay at the cash
register does not reflect its true costs” and pointed to the “costs
our society bears” elsewhere from factory farming, including air
and water pollution, health problems, government subsidies, and
animal suffering.56 Chapter 5, “In the Grass,” also emphasized
that “cheapness comes at a price” and talked about how workers

bear unseen costs in the form of dangerous w
orking conditions,
low wages, little job security, and the threat of deportation. The
Focus Question was, “When deciding what to eat, how much
should we consider the workers who pick, process and transport
it?”57 The following chapter, “Hidden Costs,”
elaborated these
themes, explaining that “by focusing on cost and abundance, our
society may be trading off safety, health, environmental quality,
and other things we value while promoting large profit-oriented
corporations at the same time.”58 Here the Focus Question was,
“Should price be the most important force behind our food indus-
try? Why or why not? How might our food system change if it was
driven by other values, like health or environmental sustainabil-
ity?”59 The lesson included an activity in which students placed
themselves on a scale between “I’ll buy what I like to eat, no mat-
ter who makes it” and “I’ll buy food only from companies whose
values I agree with” and wrote about their positions.60
This inherently political understanding of food as compris-
ing its connections extended to how the Discussion Guide talked
about health. It did not refer to individual biomedical status,
and teaching students what to do about health did not focus on
the health outcomes related to individual eating habits. In back-
to-back chapters focusing on health, one about food safety and
the other nutrition, the Discussion Guide taught instead that
health was a social product and what was to be done about health
had to do with changing systems and structures. Chapter 3,
“Unintended Consequences,” focused on food safety through
the heart-wrenching story of a mother whose two-year-old son,
Kevin, died after eating a burger tainted with E. coli, and who had
since engaged in a relentless uphill battle to secure a safer food
environment through regulatory reform. The film presented the
dangers of E. coli as the result of policy (subsidies) and practices

(feedlots, slaughterhouse speed, industry consolidation) that led
to the proliferation of a particularly life-threatening strain (E.
coli O157:H7) while also increasing the likelihood of any given
burger containing tainted meat. It argued that regulatory agen-
cies were controlled by the same companies that were supposed
to be scrutinizing them, and Kevin’s mother says, “Sometimes it
feels like industry is more protected than my son.” In the film Pol-
lan explained that each time the industry encounters systemic
problems it turns to “high tech fixes that allow the system to sur-
vive” rather than rethinking how to make the system work better,
and the chapter ends with unflattering scenes of a factory using
ammonia and ammonia hydroxide to produce pathogen-free
meat, “through a marriage of science and technology.”61
The Discussion Guide for this chapter led students to think
about where food safety comes from and whose job it was to ensure
it. The Focus Question was, “Who’s responsible for keeping our
food safe?” Deepening Questions prompted students to think about
the role of various parties in Kevin’s death, including meatpack-
ers, federal court judges, restaurant workers, and the people who
started feeding corn to cows in the first place. Activities included
reflecting on the question, “Do we have the right to assume our
food is safe? If so, who do you think should be responsible for
ensuring its safety?” The “Ideas for Action” section suggested invit-
ing students to think about a rule at their school or in their commu-
nity they would like changed and consider who has the authority
to make the change, what the process would be, and what they
would need to promote the change. It suggested the teacher “help
students develop an action plan for working toward that change.”62
The following chapter, “The Dollar Menu,” focused on dietary
health through the story of a family whose ability to eat healthy
foods was constrained by external conditions, including their

jobs, limited income, food policy, and the actions of the food
industry. The film chapter begins with the family picking up
burgers, chicken sandwiches, and sodas from a fast-food drive-
through window. As they eat in their car the mother explains
she feels guilty giving this food to her kids because she knows it
is unhealthy but doesn’t have time to cook because of workdays
stretching from 6 a.m. to after 9 p.m. and budget constraints that
mean the family must choose foods that fill them up cheaply. In
the next scene they walk through the produce section of a gro-
cery store agonizing about the cost of the broccoli and pears,
which they do not buy because they are so much more expen-
sive than a fast-food meal. Pollan explains that this is no acci-
dent because “bad calories” from commodity crops such as corn,
soy, and wheat are subsidized, resulting in income level being
one of the biggest predictors of obesity. He then describes a food
environment that “presses our evolutionary buttons” with foods
engineered to satisfy the innate desire for salt, fat, and sugar.
The film then returns to the family, and viewers learn the hus-
band is diabetic and the family struggles with choosing between
“paying for his medicine to be healthy or buying vegetables to be
healthy,” with the mother asking, “So which one should we do?”
The next scene follows the daughter to a meeting for teens run
by the California Center for Public Health Advocacy in which
every participant raises a hand in response to a question about
whether they know anyone in their family who has diabetes,
and the facilitator talks about how Type 2 diabetes is “affecting
our community in e
pidemic proportions.”63
The Discussion Guide for this chapter explored the con-
test between a public health–oriented, environment-focused
view of health and a dominant “personal responsibility” frame
emphasizing individual bodies and choices, as discussed in

chapter 1. Introductory text explained:
Some say that food choices fall under the realm of personal responsi-
bility; according to this view, what we buy and eat is a choice, and
individuals should be responsible for making healthier food choices.
Others argue that healthy food choices should be available to every-
one and not just those with means; according to this view, people
shouldn’t have to choose between healthful food and medicine, for
example, and the farm subsidy system should be restructured to
provide healthier foods for all.64
Advocating for the Real Food frame’s sociocultural understand-

ing of dietary health, the Focus Question asked, “Should access
to healthy food be a right for everyone?” Deepening Questions
prompted students to think about how government policies
affected the types and costs of available food, how the cheap cost
of processed food affects low-income families, and whether cheap,
fast food is really cheap for everyone. Like the story of a child who
innocently ate a tainted burger and the mother who unknowingly
fed it to him, the scenes of the family agonizing over the cost of
broccoli compared to burgers brought assumptions about what
counted as food and health into stark relief; food was a product of
interconnected systems, and these systems, not individuals acting
within them, created the conditions for both health and threats to
it. The Discussion Guide mentioned safe handling techniques and
encouraged making good food choices, but when it came to what
students should do about health the emphasis was on politics, not
using thermometers, counting calories, or taking more steps.65
FOOD A N D HE A LT H A S A N T I POLI T ICS
As Korthals notes, “The answer to the question of what counts as

food selects certain items and actions in the world, and excludes
others.”66 In the Alliance lessons, food was not understood as

comprising connections; it was a bounded object, produced by the
food industry to deliver nutrition, pleasure, and convenience to
consumers.67 The stories Alliance lessons told about where food
comes from, therefore, did not involve tracing connections and
unveiling hidden costs. They presented the journey from farm to
fork as a linear process that began on the farm and ended not at
symbolic “vote” by the public for the kind of food system it wanted
but as a literal fork in the hand of a satisfied consumer.
For every grade level in the Common Core series, a unit called
“Farm to Fork” included at least one sequencing exercise that
traced a linear journey through a series of steps leading from the
farm to the fork, or plate. The lesson for grades K–2 began with
the teacher writing “farm,” “production plant,” “store,” and “fork”
on the board and asking students to write or draw their favorite
food on a sticky note. Then the teacher “drove” some of the notes
through the phases, discussing each step.68 In another lesson for
the same grades, students received a worksheet with images of
the different steps to cut out and glue in the correct order: apples
growing in an orchard, workers making applesauce, a store sell-
ing applesauce, and a girl eating applesauce.69 Students in grades
3–5 also went through a sequencing exercise, gluing cards to
show the correct progression of milk through farm, production
plant, store, and “your plate,” then discussing how a food they like
moves through the same stages (Fig. 7). Afterward, they created
cards with illustrations of their favorite foods and cards show-
ing where those foods come from (e.g., eggs on one card, chick-
ens on the other) before playing a game matching the products to
their sources and, finally, decorating an envelope with the words,
“What Comes from the Farm? Everything!,” to store the cards in.70
In this version of where food came from, the farm was the first
step in a linear process rather than a node within an imagined
matrix of connections. In Food, Inc. farms were places where the

inevitable interconnections of the food system erupted in suffer-
ing for animals and humans: dead chickens chucked into dump-
sters, “downer” cows prodded toward slaughter, undocumented
meatpackers arrested in company housing, dispirited farmers
crushed by debt and intimidated by lawsuits. In the Alliance les-
sons farms were much happier places, represented by a familiar
repertoire of pastoral images.71 The sequencing exercise for grades
K–2 included a photo of a smiling farmer in front of a tractor. The
“farm” card in the sequencing exercise for grades 3–5 showed
three cows grazing alongside a white picket fence, a storybook
image of a barn with silos, and a windmill in the distance (Fig. 7).
A lesson explaining that farmers “juggle lots of tasks to bring food
to our table” was illustrated with a smiling Professor G. U. Eatwell
holding a pitchfork in one hand and a bucket in the other.72
Alongside romanticized, pastoral images of silos, picket fences,
and happy farmers, the Alliance lessons celebrated the modern
technologies used on the farm. The lessons reflected the produc-
tionist assumption that feeding a growing population was a tech-
nological challenge that could be met by producing more food
rather than a social, economic, and political challenge that would
require others kinds of solutions.73 They also reproduced a famil-
iar strategy for dissuading criticism of novel agricultural tech-
nologies, especially genetic engineering, by portraying them as
urgently necessary for meeting the world’s growing food needs.74
The Alliance taught that modern production technologies,
including genetic engineering, were necessary tools that should
be embraced by the public, not debated. This was illustrated,
for example, by a lesson for students in grades 3–5 with a side-
bar explaining farmers would need to double food production by
2050 to feed nine billion people worldwide. The lesson started
by noting that one way farmers feed a lot of people is by using
Figure 7. In the lesson “All in Order,” students cut out these “Farm to Fork Cards”
and placed them in the right sequence. Also note the pastoral imagery on the
“farm” card. © 2012 Alliance to Feed the Future, www.alliancetofeedthe
future.org. Text and design by The Education Center, Inc. The development of
this curriculum is made possible, in part, by a grant from Farm Credit.
“modern farm equipment.” After showing pictures of tractors,

plows, seed planters, and cultivators the teacher then explained,
“Farmers also work to increase the amount of crops they raise
in other ways, too. This is important because there may not be
enough land, time, or resources to continually plant more crops
to feed a growing world.” Then the teacher introduced the term

“biotechnology,” breaking the word into pieces (bio-, techno-, and
-ology). The lesson plan instructed the teacher to “lead the stu-
dents to see that this is a scientific process of producing plants and
animals that are faster growing, yield more food, and resist dis-
ease (and therefore reduce pesticide usage). It is a way for farms
to ensure a productive crop to meet the food needs of the world.”75
Moving along a linear journey from the farm to the plate, Alli-
ance lessons also stopped at the production plant, where pro-
cessing takes place. Animated by an understanding of food that
focused on benefits for consumers, rather than “hidden costs”
borne by consumers and others in the food system, the lessons
emphasized the ways that processed food was better than fresh.
Many lessons set up comparisons between processed and fresh
foods to highlight the benefits of processing for consumers in
terms of health, convenience, and enjoyment. In one, the teacher
left a piece of broccoli out for several days and then displayed the
“dried-out and discolored broccoli” along with some frozen broc-
coli, explaining that both were purchased on the same day. Stu-
dents drew and recorded their observations and then the teacher
explained, “Frozen vegetables are just as nutritious as fresh, and
you can keep them longer.”76 In another activity students brain-
stormed “the steps you must take before eating a carrot,” and the
lesson plan instructed the teacher to “lead them to conclude that
first it must be washed, then peeled, then cut” and explain, “baby
carrots are a quick and easy way to eat carrots” and are “consid-
ered a convenience food.”77 A unit called “What are Processed
Foods?” for grades 3–5 included a game of charades in which
students wrote out the steps of preparing a processed food and
the same food from scratch, for example, “eating a frozen cherry
pie / baking a pie from scratch,” and then acted out the steps. The
lesson plan explained, “Students will see that while cooking from
scratch can be fun and healthy, processed foods also offer health-
ful choices and are big timesavers for busy families.”78
With food viewed as a discrete object that moved through a lin-
ear production process ending with consumption, the focus of les-
sons about health was how individuals interacted with food once
it arrived on the table. Not only food but also the body was con-
ceived of much more discretely than in the Food, Inc. lessons, as
a bounded biomedical entity rather than a socially produced one.
Pursuing health—for this body, through this version of food—
was thus an individual biomedical matter that required personal
responsibility and expert guidance. When it came to both food
safety and nutrition, the lessons provided scientific information
and taught students to take responsibility for their own health by
using it.
Whereas Food, Inc. addressed food safety threats as a product
of policy and values that required systemic change, the Alliance
lessons treated them as technical problems that could be man-
aged with scientific information and personal responsibility.
The lessons asserted that regulators were doing their job to keep
food safe and provided the basic scientific information individu-
als needed to do theirs. A lesson for third- through fifth-graders
called “Safe and Delicious” began by explaining, “Our modern
food production system has many rules and regulations to ensure
that food is farmed, processed, packaged, stored and delivered
in a safe manner.” The class then discussed the places pathogens
can enter the system, and the teacher explained that “one job of
food producers and safety inspectors is to detect pathogens grow-
ing in foods to ensure people don’t get sick.” The lesson concluded
with instructions for managing pathogens at home, such as
“Meats must be cooked to specific temperature to ensure they are
safe” and “Never serve cooked food on the same plate that held
the raw meat.” A unit dedicated to food safety for sixth- through
eighth-graders included two lessons teaching students about the

steps they should take at home to prevent food poisoning, such
as remembering to “clean, separate, cook and chill,” using a food
thermometer, and rinsing raw produce before using it.79
Like food safety lessons, those focusing on dietary health
emphasized scientific guidance and individual responsibility,
pushing back against the Real Food frame’s challenge to both the
authority of scientific nutrition and the personal responsibility
“blame frame” for obesity and other diet-related diseases.80 With
food understood as the nutrition-, pleasure- and health-delivering
products of the food system, students learned that health was a
matter of balancing these benefits. The lessons foregrounded the
importance of understanding the basics of nutrition and using
expert guidance to make healthy choices. Alliance lessons ask-
ing the question, “What should we eat?,” turned to the USDA’s sci-
ence- and industry-backed MyPlate dietary guidance: an image of
a plate with distinct nutritional categories, some slightly larger
than others, designed to show how to choose a balanced diet.81
Lessons taught how to understand and use the guide through
activities such as placing pictures of foods into the correct sec-
tions of a blank MyPlate diagram.82 Even when using MyPlate was
not the focus, the lessons were shaped by its logic, for example,
teaching students to think about food in terms of the categories
that MyPlate used (fruits, vegetables, grains, proteins, and dairy)
and often encouraging them to look to “packaged and c onvenience
foods” to help them choose a balanced diet (Fig. 8).83
Balance was also the focus in lessons about how to avoid over-
eating or eating too much of foods that were not health p
romoting.
Pushing back against the public health framing of obesity taken
up by the Real Food frame and in the Food, Inc. Discussion Guide,
Alliance lessons taught that avoiding negative health outcomes
Figure 8. Illustrated example from the lesson “A Full Plate” showing how stu-
dents should glue pictures of foods onto the correct section of a plate that is
divided and labeled like “MyPlate.” The instructions note that teachers should
encourage students to include fresh, frozen, canned, and packaged foods. © 2012
Alliance to Feed the Future, www.alliancetofeedthefuture.org. Text and design
by The Education Center, Inc. The development of this curriculum is made possi-
ble, in part, by a grant from Farm Credit.
was a simple matter of information and willpower. They empha-

sized “energy balance,” or understanding how to balance “calo-
ries in” and “energy out” by being active and understanding and
choosing the proper portion sizes.84 For example, in “Perfect Por-
tions” for grades 3–5 the teacher presented a chart explaining the
correct portion size for a variety of foods and had a volunteer talk
about a time they ate “portions that [were] too large, especially
when students were not hungry anymore.” The students then
sorted cards showing specific amounts of different foods (3 cups
spaghetti, 10 oz. hamburger, 1 waffle, 2 bagels, etc.) into two cate-
gories: “proper portions” and “large portions.”85
Lessons also taught that some foods were not meant to be eaten
often or in large quantities and told students to balance these
“sometimes foods” with more healthful choices. For example,
in a lesson for grades K–2 the teacher gave each student a card
with a food on it (apple slices, salad, eggs, milk, frozen carrots, hot
dogs, cake, cookies, and chips, etc.) and asked them to decide if the
food on their card would be a good choice for breakfast, lunch, or
dinner. Then the teachers explained that the foods on the rest of
the cards were “considered ‘sometimes’ foods, meaning they are
ok to eat occasionally, after a nutritious meal,” and led students
through a series of activities, including a discussion about how
sometimes people snack even if they are not hungry. The lesson
ended with the teacher encouraging students to become “‘smart
snackers’ and to ask themselves if they are truly hungry before
they reach for a ‘sometimes’ food.”86
Goal setting and self-tracking activities reinforced the message
that health was a product of nutritionally informed individual
choices. A page designed to be sent home to families of third-
through fifth-graders, for example, described the many kinds
of balance students learned about in the lessons and included
prompts for discussions at home about food labels, portion sizes,

MyPlate, and so on. It also included a pledge card with boxes to
check—“I’m eating balanced meals” and “I’m balancing the cal-
ories I eat with the energy I use”—followed by a signature line
for parents and students (Fig. 9).87 Sixth- through eighth-graders
tracked their eating and activity for a week, wrote paragraphs
summarizing how they were doing, and discussed how to han-
dle any challenges. If students were not eating enough fruit,
for example, the lesson instructed the teacher to suggest “try-
ing p
repackaged apple slices” or “pop-top cans of sliced peaches
or pears.” The lesson ended with students setting goals, such as
“maintain a healthy weight,” and listing what they would do to
reach that goal, for example, “eat healthful snacks” and “ride my
bike more often.”88
Through these lessons the Alliance reasserted both the personal
responsibility frame for dietary health and the primacy of scien-
tific nutrition as a way of knowing about food. The emphasis on
nutrition reflected what Scrinis calls the ideology of nutritionism,
in which what matters about food is limited to what can be known
about interactions between nutrients and the biomedical body.
As he notes, environmental, social, and cultural dimensions of
food cannot be accounted for in this worldview.89 In this sense,
nutritionism itself—and the reassertion of nutritionism in these
lessons—was a form of antipolitics because it narrowed the
assessment to only those factors that could be known through
the expert authority of nutrition science. Furthermore, nutri-
tionism provided a foundation for the view that individuals are
responsible for their own dietary health, which is also a form of
antipolitics because it removes choices about what to eat from the
contexts that shape and constrain them. Mayes and Thompson
note that the emphasis on individual responsibility for dietary
Figure 9. An example of a goal-setting activity reinforcing the message that

health is a product of nutritionally informed individual choices, this “Big On
Balance” pledge card was to be sent home and signed by families. © 2012
Alliance to Feed the Future, made possible in part by a grant from Farm Credit.
health outcomes stems from a narrow focus on what science can

know about food, which they call “nutritional scientism.”90 They
explain that a narrow understanding of food in terms of n
utrients
leads to individuals becoming both dependent on nutritional
authority to inform their choices and understood as responsi-
ble for their own health through informed choices: “Put simply,
the story that foods are comprised of chronic disease-causing or
disease-preventing nutrients and that individuals who choose
to eat those foods are responsible for their own health outcomes
is made possible through the biopolitical use of nutritional
scientism.”91
Alliance lessons telling the story of where food comes from and
teaching students what should be done about health didn’t just
contest the Real Food frame by offering students competing
information about production practices or different dietary

advice. They presented students with a fundamentally incom-
mensurate understanding of what food and health are. Pushing

back against the Discussion Guide’s politicized version of food,
the Alliance lessons reasserted a version of “what counts as food”
that was removed from connections and thus politics. Resisting
Real Food’s reframing of health as a product of a connected sys-
tem, the lessons reasserted the primacy of scientific nutrition and
personal responsibility. As Korthals shows, the meanings of food
and health that animate competing food systems frames mat-
ter because, though often unacknowledged, they determine the
kinds of questions, information, expertise, and actions that make
sense.92 In this case, different versions of what counted as food
and health shaped the stories about where food comes from and
advice about dietary health that each curriculum provided. They
were also inextricable from how Food, Inc. and the Alliance to
Feed the Future imagined the roles they were preparing s tudents
to play in the food system.
Ultimately, this was not a contest over the facts about food pro-
duction or dietary health but over the imaginaries that shaped
which facts mattered and who had the agency to act in relation to
them. The Food, Inc. Discussion Guide imagined a public acquiring
knowledge to participate responsibly in dialogue and decisions
about the food system, including the assessment and governance
of technology. The Alliance to Feed the Future lessons contested
this intrinsically political imaginary of the public and the ideal
form of the science-society relationship it reflected.93 Shaped by
the food scientism of the Real Facts frame and its intrinsically
apolitical imaginary of the public, the Alliance lessons reframed
public concerns as scientific knowledge deficits and embraced the
classroom as a place to train informed and willing consumers.
CHAPTER THREE
Fighting for “Natural”
The Real Food frame, aspects of which were vividly articulated in

Food, Inc. and the Food, Inc. Discussion Guide, looked very differ-
ent from the perspective of the food industry. A handful of articles
published in one of the industry’s leading magazines throughout
the summer and early fall of 2015 give a good sense of how mem-
bers of the food industry, particularly those tasked with making
sense of consumer behavior, thought about changes in public per-
ceptions of “good food.” Published in Food Processing, this illumi-
nating set of articles was contributed by the magazine’s product
development editor, Lauren R. Hartman. In June, for example,
Hartman’s “Riding the Free-From Movement” stated that food
labels and ingredient statements are “under great scrutiny these
days.” She described consumers as “increasingly more discerning
and educated when it comes to food and beverages” and wanting
to avoid a variety of ingredients—gluten, soy, GMOs—while also
wanting their food to be nutritious and taste good. Hartman noted
that according to the chief sales and marketing officer of a leading
maker of foods made with “No Artificial Anything,” this growing
interest in foods not containing undesirable ingredients or major
104
Fighting for “Natural” / 105
allergens was “part of a revolutionary change in the way people

are eating.”1
In an August article, “Food Color Evolves as Consumers Push
for Cleaner Labels,” Hartman talked about a “health-conscious”
movement among “educated customers” who were “reading
ingredient and nutritional statements for the foods they buy,”
prompting growing demand for natural colorants. The arti-
cle explored the challenges product developers faced making
this difficult swap, covered companies offering manufacturers
natural colors, and discussed some high-profile switches that
had been prompted by consumer demand. Kraft, for example, had
recently pledged to remove artificial preservatives and synthetic
colors from its macaroni and cheese by January 2016, and General
Mills had set a goal for 90 percent of its cereals to have no artifi-
cial ingredients by the end of 2016, starting with reformulations
for Trix and Reese’s Puffs. Taco Bell’s bright orange nacho cheese
was soon to undergo changes as part of that company’s pledge to
eliminate artificial ingredients by the end of 2015. The article
quoted that company’s CEO: “Today’s customers want simplic-
ity, transparency and choice in the foods they eat. . . . They’re also
telling us less is más when it comes to ingredients, so we’re sim-
plifying with natural alternatives and staying true to who we are
and what makes us unique.”2
In September, Hartman’s “Clean Slate for Clean Labels”
reported “purer food formulation” was becoming standard and
discussed the serious challenges this posed for product develop-
ers. According to Innova Market Insight’s director of innovation,
“Clean—or ‘clear label’ as Innova prefers to call it—is far past
trend status. It’s the new rule. Companies will have to do what
they can to clean up labels or be as transparent as they can going
forward.” The article explained that understanding how clean
labels “improve product appeal in consumers’ minds can be used
106 / Fighting for “Natural”
to develop products with short, natural lists of real ingredients.”

While the meaning of “clean labels” was elusive, according to an
analyst for the market research company Euromonitor Interna-
tional, “the food industry can’t wait for official clarification. It
has to react swiftly to changing consumer demands, which have
translated into the by now well-established clean label move-
ment.”3 In November Hartman submitted an infographic from
the Hartman Group, an unrelated consumer research company,
listing the labels and phrases that influence consumer purchases.
The headline explained, “Today’s consumers are increasingly
aware of the personal, social, environmental and health conse-
quences of the foods they consume. This is why . . . shoppers are
likely to look for descriptions that speak to fresh, ‘clean’ or ‘free
of’ ingredients, less processing and natural aspects of food.”4
These articles, along with many others published around the
same time, translated the critical challenge of the Real Food frame
into actionable consumer insights. These were the same concerns
about the food system and changes in perceptions of processed
food discussed in chapter 1 as seen by trend analysts, consumer
researchers, and marketing professionals whose job was to track
and understand demographic and cultural changes and provide
insights that manufacturers and marketers could use to make
decisions about product development and marketing. In this con-
text, concerns about “the personal, social, environmental and
health consequences” of food that I have presented as a form of
politics were quite literally “rendered technical” as they became
mandates for ingredient makers to develop alternatives that
would appear more natural or simpler on ingredient panels, for
manufacturers to reformulate products to appear less processed,
and for marketers to emphasize descriptors like “fresh,” “clean,”
“real,” “pure,” and “natural” on the front of packages.
The marketplace was clearly an important arena in which the

food industry and the public interacted on the question of
whether processed food was good. At the center of this encounter
was the allure of “natural” claims, for both the industry and the
public, as a way to identify “good food.” Promises of naturalness,
both explicit and implicit, steadily gained momentum alongside
the uptake of the Real Food frame. In 2008 sales for “all-natural”
products were valued at more than $22 billion, up 10 percent from
2007 and 34 percent from 2004. “All-natural” was also the second
most prevalent claim on new food products in 2008, and Innova
identified the increased adoption of natural ingredients as its top
emerging trend that year.5 A 2011 survey by HealthFocus Interna-
tional revealed that almost three-quarters of US shoppers thought
the term “processed food or beverage” had a negative connotation
and that 77 percent were interested in natural foods.6 In 2013
sales of foods certified as organic and labeled “natural” grew at
a faster pace than sales in any other categories, and the natural
products industry was worth more than $40 billion.7
While the appeal of naturalness was clearly powerful, legal
uncertainty about the use of the term “natural” on food led many
manufacturers to move away from explicit claims and turn
to other means of appealing to processing-averse consumers.
The FDA did not provide a formal definition of the term but had
instead what it described as a long-standing policy of considering
the term to mean “that nothing artificial or synthetic (including
all color additives regardless of source) has been included in, or
has been added to, a food that would not normally be expected
to be in that food.”8 This vague definition, hinging on consumer
expectations, resulted in a stream of lawsuits accusing compa-
nies of using the term in ways that did not align with the public’s
ideas about what would “normally be expected” to be in food. In
2007 the Center for Science in the Public Interest backed a class
action lawsuit alleging that the “natural” claim on Kraft’s Capri
Sun beverages was misleading because they were sweetened with
high fructose corn syrup and threatened to sue the makers of
7-Up regarding their introduction of a “natural” label.9 Hundreds
of actions along these lines continued in the ensuing years, with
some going nowhere and others resulting in multimillion-dollar
settlements.10 Ben and Jerry’s dropped the use of the term “natu-
ral” in 2010 after coming under pressure because its ice creams
contained partially hydrogenated oil.11 Twenty-five lawsuits were
filed over “natural” claims in a six-month period of 2012 in Cali-
fornia alone, targeting cane juice, vegetable glycerin, soybean oil,
canola oil, alkalized cocoa, yeast extract, beta-carotene, folic acid,
ascorbic acid, and high fructose corn syrup. Several cases claimed
nutrition bars and granola were falsely labeled “all-natural,” and
a line of cases targeted major manufacturers such as ConAgra
and Frito Lay for marketing their products as natural when they
contained genetically modified corn or soybeans.12
While manufacturers and marketers continued to use “nat-
ural” and “all-natural” claims, many looked for ways to con-
vey similar messages without the legal risks, thus contributing
to the growth of a “clean label” trend. While not used on pack-
ages or other consumer-facing marketing, the term “clean label”
was used within the industry to describe the growing trend. In
business-to-business marketing, media, and other communica-
tion “clean label” described the attributes consumers influenced
by the Real Food frame were believed to be looking for: simple
ingredient statements, minimal processing, and a litany of free-
from claims such as no artificial ingredients, no preservatives, and
no GMOs. In 2013 the percentage of products bearing “all-natural”
claims dropped to 22 percent, from 30 percent in 2010.13 At the
same time, the industry press reported on studies showing, for
example, that nearly three-quarters of consumers “find the idea

that a product is made with the fewest number of ingredients
very/somewhat appealing,” 67 percent wanted “common names
on the ingredient label,” and 8 in 10 equated “preservative-free”
with healthy.14 By 2014 Food Technology reported that more than
20 percent of US products featured clean labeling of some kind.15
As mentioned above, in 2015 the head of research for Innova pro-
claimed that clean labeling was “the new rule.” That year Nestle,
Kraft, General Mills, Panera, Taco Bell, Kellogg’s, and Pizza Hut all
announced plans to remove artificial ingredients from some or
all of their products.16
This chapter follows the Real Food frame “through the looking
glass,” where it became natural and clean label trends. It explores
an encounter between the food industry and the public that took
place in the aisles of grocery stores but focuses on how the food
products that appeared there—along with their claims and
marketing—were shaped by the way the food industry imagined
the public, including its relationship to science. It looks behind the
scenes, at how the food industry struggled to make sense of, and
profit from, consumer trends it viewed as existential threats. I
focus on two interrelated arenas in which this struggle took place:
product development and marketing, as depicted in the pages of
leading food industry publications; and the regulatory arena,
as depicted by a public comment process initiated by the FDA to
determine the meaning of the term “natural” for human food.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS:

R EAL FOOD IN THE MAR K ETPLACE
For the food industry, the Real Food frame presented product
development and marketing opportunities that came with both
pragmatic and existential challenges. Advertisements and articles
(many of which functioned much like ads) in Food Technology and

Food Processing explored changing consumer wants, drawing on
and promoting the work of consumer research companies. They
also shared technical solutions, promoting ingredient companies
and their offerings to manufacturers trying to market processed
foods to the processed food averse. The publications reported that
alongside all the new demands for foods to be healthy and have
clean labels, consumers still wanted foods that were shelf sta-
ble and expected it to taste the same as it always had and have
the right texture, mouth feel, and so on. As one author put it, food
product developers had to “rely heavily on their ingredient sup-
pliers to provide them with cleaner sounding ingredients that
match their customer’s requests. Developers must then creatively
incorporate these new ingredients into existing products without
impacting the final flavor and taste.”17
Articles and ads described the technical challenges this pre-
sented and promoted solutions in the form of “label-friendly”
colors, preservatives, sweeteners, starches, thickeners, gums,
dough conditioners, and more. For example, a 2010 article about
breakfast cereal and cereal bars described cleaner and simpler
labels as a “primary objective” for product developers and pro-
filed ingredients like Tate & Lyle’s Promitor Soluble Corn Fiber,
which is “not chemical sounding, and it’s great for adding fiber
and bulk while reducing calories and sugar.”18 A 2011 article
about the future of baking announced “cleaner statements are
coming out of the oven” and profiled ingredients like LycoRed’s
“SANTE” (Super Advanced Natural Taste Enhancer) that could be
used to replace MSG and a new line of soybean-based products
from Bunge Oil that undergo an enzymatic process to eliminate
trans-fat because “nothing says clean label in baking like trans-
fat free.”19 A 2014 article, “Label It Clean,” profiled a host of new
ingredients designed to help brands create clean label formulas,

such as new lines of “functional native starches” or “functional
clean-label starches” from both Ingredion and Tate & Lyle that
allowed manufacturers to remove “modified food starch” from
the label and substitute it with ingredients that could simply be
called “corn starch” or “rice starch.”20
While these publications offered insights and strategies to
help food manufacturers respond to the “revolutionary changes”
in how Americans were eating, they were also full of nervous
uncertainty about what consumers really wanted and what

“real,” “natural,” and “unprocessed” meant to them. These were,
after all, imperfect and very limited translations of the Real
Food frame. As discussed in chapter 1, the Real Food frame was
the result of heightened social pressure for people to be “good
eaters” in the context of growing concerns about public health,
sustainability, and risks related to the use of technology in food
production. The concerns of a public moved to seek out “natural”
and less p
rocessed foods in the grocery store, in other words, far
exceeded those that could be met by those foods. In the pages of
the industry press, Real Food’s excesses often appeared as confu-
sion and consternation about what consumers really wanted.
In 2011, the same year “clean label” was declared a “top trend,”
Food Technology published an article that captured some of the
confusion and tension that arose as the food industry attempted
to understand the Real Food frame through the lens of consumer
research. Written by the head of research for Innova and the pres-
ident of HealthFocus International, “Cleaning up Processed Food”
included a lot of data pointing to worrying d
isaffection among
consumers for processed food. The authors noted with dismay
that “healthy and unprocessed are clearly linked in consumers’
minds”; only 9 percent considered processed foods either “very
healthy” or “somewhat healthy.” While the industry was increas-

ingly turning to clean labels to make processed foods more attrac-
tive, the article also talked about how the meaning of “clean
label” was unstable and dependent on consumer perceptions.
“Clean label” was unregulated, undefined, and subject to a vari-
ety of meanings among ingredient suppliers, manufacturers,
retailers, and consumers. However, the article noted, meeting
the expectations of consumers was paramount, “because in the
end the only thing that matters is if consumers repeatedly
purchase the product.”21
Consumer perceptions were, however, a great source of con-
sternation; the way consumers thought about processed food
and behaved in relation to it did not make very much sense to
the researchers or the article’s authors. For example, the article
described a 2011 HealthFocus International study of five thousand
shoppers that explored “how [they] define processed food; the fac-
tors they consider when determining whether a food or beverage
is processes or unprocessed; and which brands do the best job of
communicating clean label, healthy, and less processed.” The sur-
vey results suggested “that the perception of processed has more
impact on a shopper’s opinion than does the actual processing
that the product undergoes.” While those within the industry
had a technical understanding of processing, consumer attitudes
reflected an understanding that was less literal and more sym-
bolic, representing some of the broader concerns of the Real
Food frame about health, sustainability, and risk. With a tone of
both wonder and exasperation, the article noted, “Foods that go
through processing by food industry standards, such as pasteur-
ization and canning, are not necessarily considered processed by
many shoppers.” For example, according to the research only 16
percent identified Progresso tomatoes as processed. Even fewer
said Silk soy milk was processed, “which is surprising,” noted the
authors, “when you consider this is a fluid product extracted from
soybeans.” There was more than a hint of the deficit model of the
public understanding of science in these reactions.22
Shoppers’ opinions of products also seemed to be influenced
by “perceptions of healthfulness, product purity, and clarity of
package information” that were unrelated to processing as it was
understood within the industry. For example, consumers thought
low-calorie frozen meals were less processed than standard fro-
zen meals, “whole grain bread trumped white bread,” and organic
yogurt was considered less processed than conventional. As the
article explained, “All of these similar products were most likely
manufactured in the same way, yet, because of labeling they are
viewed as being less processed.” From their vantage point, pro-
cessing was a technical process that could be evaluated in terms
of its extent and kind, not a signifier of broader concerns about
food and the food system that could be expressed in other ways
such as through environmental stewardship (organic yogurt),
health-promoting whole food ingredients (whole grain bread),
and addressing public health concerns (low-calorie meals).23
Observing the dissonance between what the public appeared
to care about when it came to food and what natural and
clean labels actually delivered, Nadia Berenstein describes clean
labels’ “dirty little secret”: what seemed on the surface to be
the “unprocessing of processed food” was made possible by “the
very latest advancements in food science, with a futuristic sup-
ply chain working overtime.” More importantly, these products
did very little to address the actual concerns of consumers; clean
labels were a way of “virtue signaling” without delivering any
actual virtue. According to Berenstein, they said very little about
health or any of the other factors that mattered to consumers,
such as “food justice, accessibility, environment impact and labor

conditions.”24 Similarly, David Scheifler and Michaela DeSoucey
argue that advertisements in the business-to-business press both
adopted and transformed the broader critiques of what they call
the “good food” movement. The ads focused narrowly on health,
ignoring structural critiques of the food system and claiming
that processed foods could be healthy if formulated with the right
ingredients. They did not address good food movement concerns
about pesticide use, labor conditions, inequitable access to nutri-
tious foods, or localized ownership of production. Instead, they
deflected these concerns and suggested that the industrial food
system could answer these critiques by providing healthier, “nat-
ural,” and “clean” food.25 Clean labels, in other words, enacted
antipolitics by treating the broad concerns of the Real Food frame
(or good food movement) as consumer demands that could be met
by removing artificial ingredients, constructing ingredients lists
that were short and familiar, and using terms like simple and
fresh on packages.
Furthermore, the industry press projected imaginaries of
the public that were antipolitical because they assumed that
people were looking for “real food” not because they had legiti-
mate concerns about processed food or the industrial food sys-
tem but because they were irrational, misinformed, and even
antiscience. Even while many articles described consumers as
educated, informed, and empowered, deficit thinking lived on,
as articles debunked consumer concerns and dismissed them as
unnecessary at best. Articles exploring the technical challenges
involved in creating clean label products expressed frustration
about working around irrational fears and misinformed desires.
For example, a Food Technology article titled “Coloring Clean
Labels?” offered a detailed critique of every major study pointing
to negative outcomes from artificial colors, beginning with the

Feingold hypothesis, popularized in 1970, which had linked col-
ors to hyperactivity in children. The article reminded readers
of the importance of coloring for how food was experienced and
pointed to the problem facing the industry: “What are popularly
termed ‘artificial colors’ are overwhelmingly viewed as safe food
ingredients by every major public health regulatory body in the
world, yet nearly 50% of consumers believe these ingredients to
be unhealthy.” It listed companies that were removing artificial
colors, such as Kraft, which had recently pledged to remove #5 and
#6 from its “iconic macaroni and cheese,” noting that more would
likely “jump on the bandwagon” to respond to these unfounded
consumer demands for foods without artificial colors. After all of
this, the article ended with the requisite nod to the product devel-
opment opportunity, noting that food technologists would have to
figure out how to provide “appealing ‘natural’ colors that are sta-
ble within various processing environments.”26
A 2015 Food Processing article written by a product developer
lamented that there were “many healthy ingredients out there in
the food scientist’s tool kit that the consumer does not perceive
as healthy only because those products are described in unfamil-
iar or vague terms.” It discussed the challenge posed when today’s
“earthwise” consumers believe they want efficient, cost-effec-
tive ingredients removed from food products, such as modified
starches, artificial flavoring, and chemical preservatives. It also
talked about consumers who “wrongfully conclude that natural
ingredients with complicated-sounding names must be artificial
or ‘bad for you,’” as well as “uninformed food bloggers [who] relay
false information to the public, causing unnecessary concern.”27
A pressing question facing the industry was whether ced-
ing to these demands, which were seen as irrational and based
in knowledge deficits, was more dangerous than it was worth.

A senior writer and editor for Food Technology addressed this
issue in a 2014 article, “Quest for Clean Labels Cause Murky Legal
Actions.” He questioned whether it was prudent to tweak ingredi-
ents to label products “natural or all-natural,” despite a growing
consensus that consumers “want to see fresh, natural ingredi-
ents on short, clear lists.” Though asked in the context of a dis-
cussion of growing legal challenges to natural claims, he wasn’t
looking for a legal answer to the question. He turned to Fergus
Clydesdale, Distinguished Professor of Food Science at the Uni-
versity of Massachusetts, Amherst, who articulated a frank Real
Facts perspective. According to Clydesdale, by promoting natu-
ral foods as better the industry risked not only damning many of
its own offerings but also ceding the ground of truth to consum-
ers who clearly did not understand the most basic scientific facts.
He explained, “Sometimes the food industry shoots itself in the
foot: [Food companies] label something as natural, which implies
that something is wrong with [their] other products.’” This was
especially true “when one considers that everything on Earth,
including fresh air and water, is made of elements itemized in the
periodic table—i.e., chemicals.” According to Clydesdale, “‘If
the FDA made a law about listing all of the ingredients for raw
foods, there would never be another demand for natural foods.’”28
In 2015 the editor in chief of Food Processing, David Fusaro,
also took up the controversy over the status of science in the midst
of the natural and clean label bonanza in an opinion piece provoc-
atively called “Science Doesn’t Matter.” He noted that “acceding to
consumer demands seems to get more scorn and criticism than
it does praise among industry professionals. Why? Because sci-
ence doesn’t back up some of the crazy notions these consumers
get in their head. High fructose corn syrup is more fattening than
sugar? Synthetic colors cause autism? Antibiotics in farm animals

are creating antibiotic-resistant infections?” While these ideas
may be ridiculous in the eyes of experts, he acknowledged that
the industry had to nonetheless face the fact that the public’s con-
cerns did not come out of nowhere: “Something has gone wrong
lately, somewhere in our lives or the environment or we would
not have autism, obesity and superbugs.” He went on to explain
that regardless of what the cause was and whether it was rational
to turn to clean labels as a solution, “at the very least it’s always
good business to ‘give the lady what she wants’ . . . and clean labels
are what at least a segment of the consuming public wants.”29
Fusaro went on to applaud recent commitments among major
manufacturers to remove artificial colors and flavors from mac-
aroni and cheese (Kraft), replace aspartame in diet colas with
natural alternatives (PepsiCo), and stop using human antibiotics
in broiler chickens (Tyson). Then he described the kind of con-
flict that likely went on behind the scenes of these companies, as
leaders struggled to align deficit-driven imaginaries of the public
with the need to satisfy consumer demands: “I strongly suspect
that scientists and leaders at each of those companies disagree
with the logic behind these decisions. They undoubtedly have
full faith in the science that led to the use of those ingredients in
the first place. But two facts remain: 1. Consumers want things
to happen. 2. Replacing these ingredients can happen.” The arti-
cle ended with the author’s somewhat pained and clearly con-
flicted thoughts on the tension between unreasonable consumer
demands and scientific authority, noting, “in the beginning
science may matter . . . but in the end, it doesn’t.”30 It is unclear
exactly what Fusaro meant by “the beginning” and “the end,”
perhaps that science matters for product formulation (the begin-
ning of the product development process) but not for marketing
(the end), or maybe that science once mattered but does not any-
more. In either case, “Science Doesn’t Matter” revealed some of
the complexities behind the supposed simplicity of “clean labels.”
Not only were their short, simple ingredient lists and free-from
claims a distraction from the highly technical processes that were
required to produce them, but their cheerful marketing to the
“educated” consumer belied the industry’s deficit-driven anxiety
that doing so presented a threat to science, on which it rested its
own claims to authority.
R E G U L A T I N G “ N A T U R A L”
The tensions that surfaced in the industry press as manufacturers

responded to the Real Food frame in the marketplace also erupted
in a debate over whether the use of the term “natural” should be
more tightly regulated by the FDA, and if so, how. What should it
mean when it appeared on a food product? Whose opinions and
what kind of knowledge mattered when it came to deciding if
and how to regulate the use of the term? District courts handling
misbranding lawsuits related to natural claims had long implored
the FDA to provide greater clarity, and pressure mounted in 2014
when the FDA received contesting citizens’ petitions on the sub-
ject. In March, the Grocery Manufacturers Association (GMA), a
trade group representing over three hundred consumer packaged
goods companies, petitioned the FDA to issue a regulation clarify-
ing that “natural” foods can contain ingredients derived from bio-
technology. The petition argued that the FDA had a long-standing
position that foods derived from biotechnology are just as safe as
traditional foods, that biotechnology does not change the essen-
tial nature of a food, and that plant breeding methods are “not
material information for the purposes of labeling or advertising
a food.” Therefore, it argued, a “natural” claim would be neither
false nor misleading on a food derived from biotechnology solely

because it had been so derived. Reflecting the food scientism of
the Real Facts frame, the GMA petition also argued that the ques-
tion of what “natural” should mean was a scientific one, best
addressed by experts, and portrayed any argument against con-
sidering the products of biotech natural as “illogical.” The petition
described the regulation of the term as a “complex scientific issue
that deals with molecular biology, chemistry and nutrition sci-
ence” and argued that “the FDA has extensively developed agency
expertise and agency resources that put it in the best position to
address ‘natural’ labeling for foods derived from biotechnology.”31
A few months later Consumers Union, the lobbying wing of
the Consumer Reports National Research Center (which publishes
Consumer Reports), submitted a petition requesting that the FDA
ban the use of the term “natural” on food products on the basis
that it was misleading to consumers and caused confusion with
the much more strictly regulated “organic” label. If the agency
declined to ban “natural” claims, Consumers Union requested
that the FDA require any product labeled “natural” to also be
certified organic, which would guarantee that “natural” claims
would not be allowed on foods containing or derived from the
products of biotechnology. According to its research, the major-
ity of consumers believed that “natural” on the label meant, or
thought it should mean, that no toxic pesticides, GMOs, antibiot-
ics, artificial growth hormones, artificial ingredients, or chemi-
cal processing aids were used. Consumers Union argued that the
FDA’s process should be driven by the public’s expectations rather
than scientific expertise and criticized the GMA proposal as “out
of line” with those expectations.
After receiving additional petitions from the Sara Lee Corpora-
tion and the Sugar Association, in fall 2015 the FDA announced the
opening of a docket to receive information and public comments
on the use of the term “natural” in the labeling of human food

products. This effort to seek guidance from the public on the
question of a meaningful definition of “natural” followed a failed
attempt in 1991 to do the same. At that time the FDA decided not to
engage in rule making following a comment period that, accord-
ing to the agency, failed to provide the FDA with “a specific direc-
tion to follow for developing a definition” of the term. Instead, the
FDA decided to maintain its existing policy of interpreting “natu-
ral” to mean that “nothing artificial (including all color additives
regardless of source) has been included in, or has been added to,
a food that would not normally be expected to be in the food.”32
In the 1991 process the FDA did not even consider agricultural
production methods and did not explicitly address processing. In
2015 those issues were not only on the table, but at the center of it.
In its Proposed Rule document notifying the public of its
request for comments, the FDA asked if it should prohibit or
define the term “natural” and then posed a series of questions
about what types of foods should be allowed to bear the term if
it is defined, how consumers currently understand the term,
and what kind of education and enforcement they should con-
sider. Among the questions were the following: Should only raw
agricultural commodities be allowed to bear the term? Only sin-
gle ingredient foods? Or also multi-ingredient foods? Do con-
sumers confuse “natural” with “organic”? Should production
practices used in agriculture be a factor? Do consumers associ-
ate or confuse “natural” with “healthy”? Should manufacturing
processes be considered? Should the term apply only to “unpro-
cessed” food? If so, how should “unprocessed” and “processed” be
defined? Should the manner in which an ingredient is sourced
be considered? How can we ensure consumers understand what
the term means and it is not misleading? Are there public health
benefits to defining the term? Should “natural” have nutritional
benefits associated with it? How should we determine compliance

with any criteria for bearing the term?33
The rest of this chapter explores the approximately 7,690 com-
ments that the FDA received in response to these questions during
the time the docket (FDA-2014-N-1207) was open, from November
12, 2015, to May 10, 2016. The docket received comments directly
in the online interface, largely from lay members of the pub-
lic, and as attachments on letterhead from corporations, trade
groups, NGOs, and others with professional stakes in the debate.
As described in the introduction, I worked with these two types of
submissions separately, using a computational process to identify
themes in the online comments and traditional qualitative meth-
ods to code and thematize the attachments, which were fewer but
much longer. After identifying the key themes in each data set, it
became clear that for the most part the comments from the lay
public articulated arguments about what “natural” should mean
and how it should be regulated that expressed the critical chal-
lenges of the Real Food frame and urged the FDA to regulate more
strictly so that “natural” could be meaningful rather than mis-
leading. The public was joined and supported in these demands
by consumer advocates as well as corporations and trade groups
in the organic sector, whose commercial interests aligned with
public perceptions. The attachments were dominated by corpo-
rate perspectives that pushed back against these demands, argu-
ing that the FDA should be guided by science rather than the
ill-informed perceptions of the public.
“ N A T U R A L” A S A C R I T I C A L C H A L L E N G E
From the perspective of many individual members of the pub-

lic as well as consumer advocates who submitted comments to
the FDA, the problem with foods labeled “natural” was that the
public wrongly believed they were more aligned with their con-
cerns about and aspirations for the food system than they really
were. From this point of view, the public was seeking to avoid pro-
cessed food because of the overlapping concerns about health,
sustainability, and risk related to technology in food production
discussed in chapter 1. They were turning to “real” and “natural”
food to act on these concerns and aspirations, but the term was
being used in misleading ways and not delivering on these expec-
tations. Thus, the FDA needed to step in to either ban or more
strictly regulate use of the term.
This perspective was articulated in and supported by the
work of Consumers Union, which influenced the docket both
in its own submissions (including its initial citizens petition,
an extensive comment, and a petition) and in publishing its
research on consumer opinions about what “natural” should
mean in C
onsumer Reports and rallying the public to submit
comments to the docket. In the comment summitted to the FDA,
Consumers Union wrote, “Consumers who buy food with the
‘natural’ label feel strongly about health, safety and environ-
mental objectives.” It described consumers as interested in issues
“such as avoiding foods grown with pesticides, foods processed
with chemical processing aids, and foods containing GMOs and
artificial ingredients” and pointed to data showing that the
intensity of interest in these issues had steadily increased across
its 2014, 2015, and 2016 studies. During the time the docket was
open, it published an article in Consumer Reports, which it also
submitted to the docket, noting that according to its research 62
percent of s hoppers usually buy foods labeled “natural,” nearly
two-thirds believe it means more than it does, and nearly half
incorrectly believe natural claims have been independently
verified. People wanted “natural” to mean no chemicals used
in processing, no artificial ingredients, no toxic pesticides, and

no GMOs. A majority of shoppers (more than the previous year)
cared about supporting local farmers, reducing exposure to
pesticides in foods, protecting the environment from chemicals,
and providing better living conditions for animals.34 Consum-
ers Union also submitted a petition with over 242,000 s ignatures
stating that “natural” labels led consumers to believe the food
they buy does not contain such things as artificial ingredients,
GMOs, pesticides, and hormones but that without oversight
or enforcements, companies can use the label deceptively on
almost any food. It urged the FDA, “Fix it or drop it!”
From the perspective of Consumers Union, “natural” labels
had the potential to help consumers act on their concerns, val-
ues, and aspirations related to the food system. For them, along
with others who saw the public (or themselves) as trying to act
on legitimate concerns by choosing food labeled “natural,” confu-
sion with the label “organic” was a central concern. Prompted by
the initial petitions from the GMA, which advocated the inclusion
of biotechnology, and Consumers Union, which highlighted con-
fusion between what was natural and what was organic, the FDA
had solicited comments on whether production practices used in
agriculture should be considered relevant to natural claims and
whether consumers confused “natural” with “organic.” These
questions and their answers were deeply intertwined, because
the National Organic Program (NOP) already provided a regula-
tory mechanism for designating foods produced without the use
of biotechnology and synthetic pesticides.35 As Julie Guthman
has shown, organic agriculture and marketing evolved from a
social movement driven by alternative values and aspirations
for the food system into a massive industry, held together by a
USDA certification program focusing on allowable agricultural
inputs and practices.36 “Organic” labels verified that foods were

produced without certain synthetic inputs and without biotech-
nology. The label may not have meant everything the public
imagined, or wanted it to mean—research has shown that many
assume organic food is more natural, healthier, and safer—but it
was a highly regulated claim, expensive to attain and lucrative
to deploy.37 Thus, companies and trade groups representing the
organic industry argued that the meaning of “natural” should be
more tightly regulated to align with public perceptions and avoid
confusion with organic foods.
The Organic Trade Association (OTA), for example, submitted
a forceful fourteen-page argument citing its own consumer stud-
ies, Consumer Union’s surveys, and research conducted by the
Organic and Natural Health Association, all of which showed
that consumers were being misled by natural claims. According
to the OTA, “As food companies and marketers currently utilize
it, the term has misled consumers by implying a slate of benefits
that are simply not borne out by current regulations or verified
under a product certification program.” They made the threat to
the organic industry clear: “Allowing companies to use the term
‘natural’ in a way that can be conflated with ‘organic’ by consum-
ers misleads consumers about the nature of the food they pur-
chase for their families, and free-rides on the hard work of the
certified organic industry in creating, abiding by, and educat-
ing consumers about a robust set of standards.” Cropp Coopera-
tive, “the nation’s largest organic, independent farmer-owned
cooperative,” described “natural” as “one of the most abused and
misunderstood claims currently in use,” explaining that consum-
ers perceive “natural” as not only equal to, but in some cases “of
higher value or integrity than organic.” “Yet this perception is not
the reality,” the cooperative stated.
Based on these concerns, companies and trade groups seeking

to protect the value of organic labeling urged the FDA to either
ban or very strictly regulate use of the term, making it much
harder—if not impossible—for “natural” to appear on food prod-
ucts. Two basic themes emerged across the comments they sub-
mitted. Some argued that the best protection for “organic” was
to ensure that “natural” not be allowed to pertain to agricultural
production, while others argued that “natural” products should
be required to be certified organic and then meet additional stan-
dards. The OTA, whose position was also taken up in comments
submitted by many of its members, argued that “natural” should
be banned and replaced with single-attribute claims such as “no
synthetic ingredients,” “minimally processed,” or “produced
without the use of GMOs.”38 Their perspective was that the “nat-
ural” label should never be allowed to include production prac-
tices because those were already covered by the National Organic
Program. Others, following the lead of Consumers Union, advo-
cated for a different solution. The National Organic Coalition, the
Organic and Natural Health Association, and the Organic Seed
Growers and Trade Association, among others, argued that “natu-
ral” should be banned but that if it was not banned it should incor-
porate organic certification. In this “organic plus” framework,
products claiming to be all-natural first would have to be certi-
fied organic and then meet additional requirements to align with
consumer expectations of artificial and synthetic ingredients. As
the comments explained, this would entail clearly defining “arti-
ficial” and explicitly excluding products containing nano materi-
als or produced through synthetic biology or genome editing, as
well those containing artificial and synthetic vitamins.
The comment advancing perhaps the most explicitly polit-
ical and optimistic view of what “natural” could be, if properly
regulated, was submitted by the Organic and Natural Health

Association, which described itself as representing consum-

ers, retailers, and corporations working together to create “a
new
paradigm of trust between consumers and the natural
health industry.”39 Drawing on a 2015 consumer research study
conducted by the Natural Marketing Institute, it argued that con-
sumers of natural food were seeking to have the same kind of
impact on the food system that consumers of organic food were
seeking to have, but they were being misled into buying natural
products. They concluded that consumers “are seeking a ‘true’
natural definition that mirrors organic” and argued that the
FDA should adopt a natural standard that “ensures a continual
improvement of the food system by supporting” a comprehensive
set of values and practices. This included “reducing the amount of
toxic chemicals used to produce food or used as food ingredients,”
using production methods that don’t require synthetic fertilizers
or toxic pesticides, accounting for “external costs of human dis-
ease, animal confinement, environmental degradation, and com-
munity dissolution,” and promoting “sustainable farming and
consumption that meets present needs without compromising the
ability of future generations to meet their needs.”
Like the corporations and trade groups seeking to make “natu-
ral” a meaningful way for the public to act on the concerns of the
Real Food frame in the marketplace, many individual members
of the public urged the FDA to ban the term or make it much more
difficult to use. Comments submitted by individuals asserted the
values and concerns that motivated people to seek out natural
foods, castigated the industry for using “natural” claims in mis-
leading ways, and called on the FDA to prioritize consumers and
regulate the term to ensure its meaningfulness. These comments
were different from those submitted by corporations and trade
groups because instead of focusing on regulatory technicalities

and angling for a definition that aligned with their business
interests, they tended to debate the meaning of “natural” as both
a marketing term and an ideal. In many cases, they articulated
ideas about what natural meant or should mean that were illogi-
cal from an industry point of view because they did not translate
to the context of food production. From a Real Facts perspec-
tive, they were irrational, emotional, based in a lack of scientific
knowledge and understanding. From my perspective, they were
operating on an ideological level and articulating a critical chal-
lenge rooted in a refusal of the way things were. My analysis
emphasizes how individuals asserted lay expertise and author-
ity in a context they perceived as unfairly influenced by industry
interests and scientific authority.
I understand these comments as part of a long history of nat-
ural food proponents expressing oppositional politics and iden-
tities while also challenging established forms of power and
authority. Warren Belasco, for example, describes the opposi-
tional politics of a 1970s countercuisine that expressed many of
the same values as the counterculture by eschewing “plastic” food
in favor of “natural.”40 Michael Kideckel illuminates a long his-
tory of food activists using the language of nature to claim author-
ity for themselves over and against formal expertise.41 Laura
Miller’s history of the natural food movement shows that natural
food proponents have historically challenged assurances of safety
about the conventional food supply from established scientific
and medical authorities and questioned “the very basis of pro-
fessional authority.”42 In addition, scholars working across fields
have discussed the semiotic flexibility and power of the terms
“nature” and “natural.”43 Anders Hansen notes in his analysis of
media coverage of genetics and biotechnology, that “nature” has
a remarkable ability to accommodate contradictory meanings;

Raymond Williams called it “perhaps the most complex word in
the language.”44 While this semantic richness makes “nature” an
extremely powerful construct, “natural” may be even more pow-
erfully ideological, often being used to evoke non-negotiability
and preempt further discussion.45
In response to the complex, layered questions posed by the
FDA about what “natural” should mean, many individuals told
the agency to simply “look it up.” Many comments included or con-
sisted entirely of dictionary definitions of natural or links to them.
The Oxford English Dictionary (OED) was frequently cited: “exist-
ing in or caused by nature; not made or caused by humankind.”
As was Merriam-Webster’s: “existing in nature and not made or
caused by people: coming from nature: not having any extra sub-
stances or chemicals added: not containing anything artificial:
usual or expected.” One person wrote, “Only a corrupt organiza-
tion would need someone to explain what the obvious definition
of ‘natural’ means,” then cited both the OED and Merriam-Webster
definitions. In addition to citing the dictionary, others wrote com-
ments such as: “Why are we needing to define a word that already
has a definition?”; “This is not a real question right?”; “Seriously,
go to the dictionary and look up ‘natural.’” Comments about the
sheer obviousness of the meaning of natural contested the scien-
tific expertise powerful companies and trade groups would lever-
age, asserting that no such expertise was necessary to know what
it meant or should mean.
Individuals also frequently asserted that “natural” should
ensure that foods were produced without science, technology, and
scientific expertise. “Nothing chemically derived in a laboratory
is natural,” commented one person. “If something was done in a
laboratory it is not natural,” wrote another. One comment began,
“If the food is whatsoever handled by a scientist and changed from

its original state or modified from how it came to be from nature
then it is not natural.” While this logic ran through the comments
submitted by individual members of the public, it was especially
prevalent in arguments against allowing foods produced using
genetic engineering to bear the term “natural.” Comments like
this one captured a widely shared sentiment: “Anything created
in a laboratory is not Natural, so GMOs are not natural. . . . Natu-
ral should mean nothing man made. Natural should mean noth-
ing that was created in a laboratory.” One person commented,
“Nothing that is created in a lab and can only be created in a lab
by a trained person with specific and advanced equipment should
be called natural. Genetically Engineered Organisms can only be
created in a lab through the use of advanced scientific knowledge
and equipment and therefore is NOT natural.” Another wrote, “It
doesn’t take a scientist (or, perhaps, it does) to tell you that if some
biological material was tinkered with in a lab then ‘natural’ is
far from what it is!! Nature produces what it will, hybridization
included. Laboratories do not produce a natural product.”
While these were exactly the views on genetic technologies
that those influenced by the Real Facts frame dismissed as emo-
tional and irrational, through them the public asserted its own
authority by claiming that “natural” food is not something that
could be created by or should be governed by experts; in other
words, they leveraged the ideological power of “natural” to con-
test the ideological power of “science.” As Hansen notes, uses of
“nature” are ideological “in the sense that they serve ultimately
the purpose . . . of presenting particular views” as right. Hansen
argues that “natural” serves as a “discursive stopper,” invoking
a sense of non-negotiability and preempting further question-
ing.46 Describing something as “natural” shuts down discussion,
implying “‘we all know what this means or ‘this does not require
scientific knowledge.’”47 Comments submitted by the lay public
harnessed this ideological power to assert commonsense mean-
ings of “natural” and to invoke their non-negotiability. Thus,
while they may appear antiscience through the lens of the Real
Facts frame, these comments were more accurately anti–food sci-
entism. They contested the ideological power of science as a vague
but powerful signifier of authority and used the ideological power
of “natural” to present the views of the lay public as right and
beyond further questioning.
Comments submitted by individual members of the public
also addressed the issue of power and authority in the food sys-
tem directly, pointing to collusion between industry and the
government and expressing frustration about uneven power

dynamics. The docket was an opportunity for the public to speak
directly to the FDA, vent anger and frustration, and demand
that the FDA take their concerns seriously. One comment asked
sarcastically, “Should the FDA do anything? No, we should have a
government that just stands by, collects a paycheck, and watches
major food corporations lie to consumers.” Another demanded,
“You need to label food with the correct ingredients and stop
allowing companies to poison Americans.” Many of the comments
that expressed the most anger about power dynamics implicitly
or explicitly concerned the possibility that foods produced using
genetic engineering might be allowed to bear natural claims.48
One argued, “There is nothing natural about it! Stop poisoning
our people!! Do your jobs and listen to the people instead of being
bought and paid for”; and another wrote, “Label GMOs and stop
taking bribes.” Many comments were laced with similar outrage
that the FDA seemed to work for the industry rather than consum-
ers. “Who does the FDA work for?,” asked another, before accusing
the agency of supporting the “greed of the industry” that earns

“its millions” deceiving consumers. One person wrote, “I have
given up completely on you guys. WAKE Up and do your JOB. Pro-
tect the people stop trying and letting companies find loopholes
around telling the public what we put in our bodies. The amazing
part is your guys let it happen.”
Seen through a Real Facts lens, comments from the lay pub-
lic arguing that “natural” should mean what it already obviously
meant and that no expertise or science was necessary for defining
it would likely be taken as further evidence of the public’s lack of
understanding of the scientific and technical aspects of food pro-
duction. These were exactly the misinformed expectations and
antiscience sentiments that the industry press was wringing its
hands about. But while the public may have embraced notions of
what the term should mean that were impractical from an indus-
try perspective, they were not antiscience so much as they were
anti–food scientism. They asserted lay authority over the question
of what “natural” should mean, contested the role of scientific
expertise, and brought power dynamics—that is, politics—to the
fore. Along with the comments from consumer advocates and
trade groups aligned with a consumer-driven definition of nat-
ural, these comments took the concerns of the Real Food frame
seriously and urged the FDA to do so as well.
DEFINING NATUR AL THROUGH

“SCIENCE-BASED REASON”
For companies and trade groups influenced by the Real Facts

frame, the problem with natural foods was not misleading mar-
keting but misinformed consumers and their advocates whose
unreasonable expectations might cause the FDA to take up a
restrictive definition that harmed their commercial interests.

Even though these comments differed on how exactly natural
should be defined and regulated, they shared a central argu-
ment that “science-based reason” should prevail over irrational
consumer expectations when it came to determining the use of
the “natural” label on food. Driven by food scientism, these com-
ments claimed science as a source of authority to set policy and
made the case for asserting this authority over and against unin-
formed or misinformed consumer perceptions.
The FDA’s mandate to prevent misleading labeling, along
with the fact that the existing policy on labeling foods “natural”
hinged on consumer expectations, meant that public percep-
tions of “natural” had to be contended with even if they would
ultimately be overridden. As discussed above, organic inter-
ests, consumer advocates, and the lay public all argued that
consumer expectations should be the central consideration in
defining what was natural. For conventional food businesses
and the trade groups representing them, however, negotiating
consumer expectations was more complicated. It often entailed
acknowledging the importance of the public’s perceptions while
urging the FDA to prioritize scientific reason. The comment
from the American Bakers’ Association (ABA), for example, nav-
igated this balancing act by arguing that the policy on natural
foods should be based on evidence from “both science (as appro-
priate) and concrete consumer research.” It argued that the FDA
needed to thoroughly understand what consumers think natural
means—“particularly on clearly processed food products such
as bread or baked goods”—and suggested it conduct consumer
research studies to do so. But the ABA also argued that in cases
where expectations were “unreasonable,” the FDA should edu-
cate consumers to align their expectations with a rational use of
the term. They explained, “To the extent that consumer expec-
tations may be unreasonable or inappropriate, the FDA should
not be bound by them, but instead should remain science- or
evidence-based and educate consumers about a more appropri-
ate understanding of ‘natural.’” This approach, they explained,
would “provide consumers with more scientifically valid infor-
mation about the food they eat.” As an example of “unreasonable
or inappropriate” consumer expectations, the ABA pointed to the
expectations that might hinder their members’ use of the term
“natural”: “when a ‘natural’ claim is made on a food that obvi-
ously has been processed (e.g., bread that has been baked), any
consumer expectation that such claim must mean that the food is
unprocessed is not reasonable.”
The Sugar Association argued, similarly, that the definition
of natural needed to be based on “the preponderance of scien-
tific evidence.” The association, which represented sugarcane
and sugar beet refiners and farmers, elaborately described pub-
lic knowledge deficits in making the case that the regulation
must be science based rather than conform to consumer expec-
tations. They described consumers as having “an inherent lack
of knowledge about food ingredients, food technology and food
ingredient terminology” that placed them at a “disadvantage
when trying to evaluate when a product or ingredient is ‘natu-
ral.’” They m
aintained that surveys purporting to report on con-
sumer expectations were unreliable because consumers “often
base answers to complicated questions on limited knowledge of
complex processes and systems.” Consumers must rely, there-
fore, “on the oversight of regulatory agencies to provide clear,
concise and science-based regulations.” Driving home these defi-
cit-driven arguments, the comment continued, “It is the duty of
experts to ensure that any evaluation of a definition for ‘natural’
is undertaken within the proper context of the food supply and

food technology, and is accurate and science-based to ensure that
consumers are not misled based on opinions that are not sup-
ported by facts.”
While scientific knowledge was certainly relevant to many of
the questions posed by the FDA about natural claims, the ques-
tion of what the term “natural” should be allowed to mean in the
marketplace for food was not one that could be answered scien-
tifically. For example, the central question of whether production
practices used in agriculture should be a factor in determining
the use of natural claims was blatantly a question of judgment,
and a highly charged one at that. Similarly, whether manufac-
turing processes should be considered and if so, how “processed”
and “unprocessed” should be defined and whether the manner in
which an ingredient is sourced should be considered were also
not questions that could be scientifically determined. Arguments
that the question of what natural should mean could and should
be answered scientifically reflected a larger shift in the role of sci-
ence in public life, as described by Wynne, from informing pol-
icy to determining what kind of information matters and defining
acceptable (i.e., “reasonable”) public interpretations and con-
cerns. Comments shaped by the Real Facts frame conjured science
as what Wynne and Ian Welsh have called a “catch-all signifier of
authority” and treated the project of defining natural not as a pub-
lic issue involving science but as one that should be defined by it.49
As they answered the questions posed by the FDA about where
the line should be drawn between natural food and food that
should not be allowed to bear the term, companies and trade
groups advocated every possible position based on their being
scientific, even though the logic rarely involved the application
of specific scientific or technical knowledge. For example, many
comments argued that there was a rational, scientific basis for

determining a definition of natural based on the extent of pro-
cessing involved and whether the basic composition of the food
had been changed. Trade groups representing pistachio grow-
ers,
frozen food makers, seasoning manufacturers, and juice
producers, as well as corporations supplying stevia, sugar, algae,
and more, made the case that processes that do not change the
“fundamental nature” of the product or its “natural character”
or “molecular structure” or “original chemical form and struc-
ture” should be allowed to be considered natural.50 Pistachio
growers, for example, systematically made the case that roasted,
salted, and flavored nuts should be considered natural because
“flavoring does not alter the genetic or biological make-up of
the nut” and roasting “does not alter the structural make-up of the
product.” Similarly, the Sugar Association advanced this perspec-
tive in seeking to protect its distinction as natural in contrast to
high fructose corn syrup.51 It argued that starch-based sweeten-
ers were not natural, despite being derived from a natural source,
because processing changes the molecular structure of the raw
material from which it was physically separated. While these
arguments advocated a determination of natural food that could
be made scientifically (i.e., whether or not the original chemical
form or structure of a food had been changed), the argument that
the determination should be made in this way was itself subjec-
tive and driven by the specific interests of those advocating for it.
Commenters bolstered these scientistic claims to authority
by also arguing that their positions were in the public interest.
As David Hess explains in his work on “undone science,” in the
context of contestation over visions of desirable futures compet-
ing parties often express their positions in terms of the public
good. He explains that members of the “official public”—that is,
incumbents in political, industrial, or other social fields—gener-

ally s upport their positions not by arguing how their own inter-
ests will be advanced but by arguing that “their position is the
best road toward the goal of producing an outcome in the broad
public interest.”52 Furthermore, as Claire Marris argues in her
analysis of communication and public engagement initiatives
related to synthetic biology, scientific institutions routinely “see
‘public attitudes’ as a major obstacle to the field that needs to be
surmounted in order to deliver its ‘public benefit.”53 While com-
ments to the FDA from trade groups and corporations were gen-
erally very explicit about the business interests at stake, they also
frequently argued that their position on how “natural” should be
used was in the public interest and that public perceptions should
be overcome, if need be, to provide this public benefit. According
to their logic, “natural” was such a compelling marketing term
that disqualifying ingredients or technologies that made prod-
ucts safer or more nutritious from being called natural was a
threat to public health.
Commenters marshaled science-based authority and argued
that public objections needed to be overcome for the sake of the
public good when it came to whether technologies that reduced
safety risks or added vitamins should be considered “natural.”
According to the Juice Products Association, for example, pas-
teurization, heating, freezing, high-pressure processing, and
irradiation should not disqualify a food from using a “natural”
claim because they reduced or eliminated food safety risk, and
“it would be contrary to public policy to force foods in the ‘nat-
ural’ segment to sacrifice food safety.” The National Seasoning
Manufacturers Association wrote that “any approved treatments
that make the product microbiologically cleaner and safer for
consumers should not impact the ‘natural’ status of the product.”
Thus, they argued, “FDA-approved microbial reduction process,

which currently includes ethylene oxide, irradiation, steam and
propylene oxide” should be considered acceptable for use in prod-
ucts labeled “natural.” Using the same logic, the National Turkey
Federation argued that “use of chlorine in the chiller (and other
processing aids such as chlorine dioxide and acid rinses)” should
not disqualify a product from being labeled “natural.” It urged
the FDA to consider the potential economic impacts of an “inap-
propriate definition” and argued that the ability of the industry
to “adopt new technologies to improve the safety of their products
is very important and should not be hindered” by disqualifying a
product from being labeled as natural.
Commenters made similar arguments in favor of exempting
synthetic vitamins from disqualifying a product from being con-
sidered natural. The Council for Responsible Nutrition, a trade
group representing ingredient suppliers and manufacturers in
the dietary supplement and functional foods industry, acknowl-
edged that the current policy on natural food “hinges in part on
the absence of synthetic ingredients” but argued that essential
nutrients should be exempted from having to meet this qualifica-
tion because of their importance for the health of the population.
They noted that because consumers increasingly seem to be “sub-
stituting fortified foods with those that are fresh or minimally
processed, made from all-natural ingredients, or organically
grown, the prevalence of under-nutrition might increase across
the population unless natural and organic foods are fortified with
vitamins.” Similar arguments were made by a wide range of corpo-
rations and trade groups, including the GMA, the National Restau-
rant Association, Unilever, the Enzyme
Technical Association
(representing enzyme makers), Citrus World (a grower’s cooper-
ative), the Juice Products Association, and the International Dairy
Foods Association. Like the Council for Responsible Nutrition, the

GMA argued that an exception to the no-synthetic-ingredients
component of “natural” should be made for fortification with syn-
thetic vitamins because “there is a clear benefit to not stigmatizing
the addition of vitamins and minerals to foods in relation to the
use of the term ‘natural’ on a food or ingredient label.” While
these arguments were made in the name of the public good, they
were also based in self-interest, and while applying forms of sci-
entific knowledge, they also enacted food scientism by extending
the purview of science beyond those forms of knowledge to a gen-
eral sense of authority over meaning and policy.54
All these themes—the deployment of science as a catchall signi-
fier of authority over both meaning and policy, bolstered through
alignment with public interests, and asserted over and against
public deficits of knowledge and understanding—were especially
evident in comments addressing whether agricultural practices
should be relevant in determining whether a product could be
called natural. As discussed above, the competing citizens’ peti-
tions filed by Consumers Union and the GMA made this question
central to the negotiation and brought controversy over the rela-
tionship between scientific authority and public perceptions to
the fore. Consumer research—including Consumer Union’s widely
cited studies—suggested that most consumers mistakenly con-
flated “natural” claims with organic certification, but those com-
panies and trade groups who were using “natural” on the products
of conventional agriculture and / or biotechnology sought to pro-
tect their ability to do so. They criticized the Consumer Union sur-
vey results as methodologically flawed and unreliable, cited their
own studies suggesting that consumers perfectly understood the
difference between natural and organic, and advocated a “har-
vest forward” approach in which agricultural practices would
be considered outside the scope of natural claims.
In its comment, for example, Tyson noted that many organi-

zations submitting comments to the FDA claimed to speak for or
understand the desires of consumers, but, they warned, “such
claims should be viewed with skepticism in the absence of reli-
able survey data. As the FDA knows well, not all consumer sur-
veys are created equal. Some surveys are designed to produce
results to support a pre-determined point of view or political
agenda.” The comment went on to name the surveys submitted by
Consumer Reports as “potentially biased” and to assert that Tyson,
“on the other hand, is in the business of meeting, rather than shap-
ing, consumer expectations.” According to Tyson’s survey of over
five thousand consumers, 93 percent “profess to either ‘exactly’ or
‘generally’ understand the meaning of ‘natural’ claims on meat
and poultry products.” Furthermore, they found that consumers
“typically do not associate the ‘natural’ claim with crop produc-
tion or animal raising methods,” including GMOs.55
Companies seeking to continue using the term “natural” on
foods produced using conventional agriculture and/or biotech-
nology argued that if natural was to pertain to production prac-
tices, the only rational approach would be to maintain the FDA’s
policy of focusing on the objective characteristics of a food,
rather than its source, and allow the products of biotechnology
to bear the natural claim. Deficit thinking haunted comments
arguing that when it came to deciding whether or not the prod-
ucts of biotechnology should be allowed to be labeled “natural”
consumer expectations were too irrational to be taken seriously.
These arguments, which echoed the GMA petition but came from
a wide range of corporations and trade groups, clearly reflected
the discourse on biotechnology taking place outside of the com-
ments, in which a scientistic view of the controversy defined risk
as the only legitimate concern, dismissed concerns about risk as
scientifically invalid, portrayed remaining concerns about the
technology and its uses as irrational, and called for education to

address the deficits behind the problem of public acceptance.56
As in the arguments about safety and fortification, those
addressing biotechnology deployed science as a vague but supe-
rior form of reason for deciding what “natural” should mean.
They also invoked the public good, which they aligned with the
nation’s role as a leader in agricultural innovation and character-
ized as threatened by irrational public perceptions that needed to
be overcome.57 The Farm Bureau Federation (FBF), “the country’s
largest general farm organization,” for example, submitted a com-
ment that conflated the question of what “natural” should mean
with the viability of the products of biotechnology in the market-
place. The FBF reminded the FDA that to “remain internationally
competitive and lead the world in achieving productivity and effi-
ciency gains . . . U.S. agriculture must stay on the cutting edge of
technology.” The comment argued there was no “scientific justifi-
cation” for treating the products of natural gene transfer differ-
ently from the products of genetic engineering and no “scientific
rationale” for the FDA to deviate from its long-standing policy of
not considering plant breeding methods relevant when it came to
considering whether a product can be called “natural.” The FBF
described the controversy surrounding genetic engineering as
“contrary to scientific consensus” and characterized comments
against allowing the products of biotechnology to be called natu-
ral as in some cases seeking market advantage and coming from
“what, in many cases, is emotional or uninformed points of view.”
While comments like this one explicitly characterized pub-
lic attitudes as irrational, others implicitly projected public
knowledge deficits by assuming that the public did not see the
products of biotechnology as natural because they didn’t under-
stand basic facts about agriculture and genetic engineering. The
Biotechnology Innovation Organization (BIO), “the world’s largest

biotechnology trade association,” was also among those positing
that the only rational approach would be to disregard production
practices or to allow the products of biotechnology to be labeled
“natural.” The central argument of BIO’s extensive “Discussion”
section was that “there is no sound legal or policy basis” for
forbidding the products of biotechnology from being considered
natural because “if natural means the absence of human influ-
ence, then no agricultural or food production activity is natural.”
The central assumption of its argument supporting this conclu-
sion was that genetic engineering was perceived as unnatural
only because people did not understand basic facts about agri-
cultural breeding, which it summarized as follows: modern bio-
technology is a refinement of breeding techniques that have been
used for thousands of years; all agriculture has been altered by
human intervention; most of our existing crops cannot survive
without human aid; the tools used to genetically alter plants and
animals come from nature.
BIO’s fourteen-page comment also included an extensive
“Note on Science and Regulation” that implicitly projected pub-
lic knowledge deficits by assuming that concerns about genetic
engineering being labeled “natural” were the result of the pub-
lic not understanding basic facts about the safety of foods pro-
duced using biotechnology. This section was consistent with the
scientism of expert discourse on genetic engineering, in which
safety was seen (and dispensed with) as the only legitimate issue
for public concern. Yet, as Wynne argues, public concerns embod-
ied “much larger political-economic and human questions and
concerns” about how scientific research and innovation, as well
as “scientific advice to policy, [are] selectively conducted and
controlled.”58 BIO’s “Note on Science and Regulation” began by
stating that “there are hundreds of scientific studies supporting

the safety of foods improved through biotechnology, including
studies from the most credible scientific authorities in the world,”
such as the National Academy of Sciences, the United Nations
Food and Agricultural Organization, the World Health Organi-
zation, and the American Medical Association. In a bullet-point
list, it cited key points from eight of these studies, noting that
these statements were supported by “an abundance of scientific
research.” By providing an education about agricultural breeding
practices and citing scientific assurances of safety, BIO’s comment
dismissed the view that products of genetic engineering should
not be allowed to bear “natural” claims as irrational and emo-
tional without ever even mentioning them.
The comments submitted to the FDA by corporations and trade
groups seeking to be able to continue to use the term “natural” in
ways that were considered misleading by the public enacted food
scientism in its many forms. They assumed that science could
and should not only answer relevant research questions but also
determine policy and shape public meanings. They were moti-
vated by the assumption that public perceptions of processed food
were based on irrational fears of food science and technology
and haunted by persistent misunderstandings of public concerns
about the uses of science and technology as the result of knowl-
edge and trust deficits.
The fact that the FDA failed to act after collecting comments on
whether and how the term “natural” should be regulated aside,
the tussle over its meaning is a very good place to see the Real
Facts frames in action and track its side effects. Concerned about
health, sustainability, and risk and wanting change in the food
system, the public sought to act on its values and aspirations in
the marketplace. Narrowly reframing those concerns as demands

that could be met through product reformulations and new
approaches to marketing—but without serious, systemic engage-
ment with the broader issues they reflected—the food industry
provided products that appeared to be more natural, less pro-
cessed, and therefore better. The antipolitics of this narrow inter-
pretation of what it meant to respond to the Real Food frame was
amplified by the imaginary of the public that accompanied it;
articles in the industry press and comments to the FDA show that
many perceived the consumers of “real food” as irrational and
misinformed. Seen through the food scientism of the Real Facts
frame, consumer perceptions of processing and what “natural”
meant, or should mean, were further proof that the public lacked
the skills and understanding to meaningfully participate in the
regulatory process, let alone act as knowledgeable participants in
the governance of technology and the shaping of the food system.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Paradoxes
of Transparency
One way of looking at the challenge the Real Food frame posed to
the food industry was as a public relations (PR) problem. The rep-
utations of the food industry as a whole, individual corporations
and brands, and even specific ingredients were in question. Big
Food was unpopular, food science more feared than appreciated.
But were campaigns using science to fix negative perceptions of
processed food and the food industry, like the Alliance to Feed the
Future’s curriculum, working? Even as the food industry contin-
ued to back such efforts, some began to wonder if this approach
to defending the food industry’s reputation—and commercial
interests—needed an overhaul. One organization took the lead in
rethinking how the food industry should communicate with the
public. The Center for Food Integrity, which describes itself as a
nonprofit dedicated to helping the food industry earn consumer
trust, published its first academic research paper challenging tra-
ditional approaches to communication about the food system in
2009 and went on to develop and disseminate new models that
foregrounded values instead of scientific facts. Within a few
years, the CFI was everywhere—publishing reports, convening
144
The Paradoxes of Transparency / 145
summits for food industry leaders (including one I attended in

2015), hosting webinars and trainings, and being quoted across
local, national, and trade media outlets about how to build con-
fidence in the food system through shared values and trans-
parency.1 Ultimately, it shaped a new conversation about the
relationship between the food industry, the public, and science.
The CFI’s 2014 research report, “Cracking the Code on Food
Issues,” gives a good sense of its core concerns. The central ques-
tion it explored was: “How do we connect when scientific consen-
sus and consumer beliefs are not aligned? When consumers don’t
accept what science says is true?” The report noted it may be hard
for “those dedicated to improving our lives through science-based
technologies and innovations” to understand why the pub-
lic does not defer to scientific authority, explaining that “many
issues remain contentious, no matter the facts, because the social
decision-making process is complex.” It went on to help mem-
bers of the food industry understand the social decision-making
process so they could intervene in new ways, helping consumers
make “informed decisions about food” but not by foregrounding
scientific authority and facts. Instead, it provided “a roadmap to
making complex and controversial technical information rel-
evant and meaningful” that focused on demonstrating shared
values, challenging core assumptions of the Real Facts frame by
arguing, “more science, more research, more information” was
not the right approach.2
In arguing that the long-standing “just tell them the facts”
model was not working, the CFI critiqued some of the founda-
tional assumptions of the Real Facts approach to communication
and challenged the food industry to respond in more meaningful
ways to public concerns. Thus, focusing on their work allows me
to explore how the food industry sought to evolve in the face of the
Real Food frame instead of just reframing its critical challenges
146 / The Paradoxes of Transparency
as a misunderstanding that could be corrected with the right

information. This chapter explores what happened as the Cen-
ter for Food Integrity set out to overhaul the food industry’s defi-
cit-driven, facts-first, one-way approach to communicating with
the public. In doing so, I find many of the issues that STS scholars
have discovered in their observations of public engagement prac-
tices that seek to go beyond deficit-driven approaches to commu-
nicating with the public about science and technology but end up
replicating many of the same problems.3
Rather than simply criticize the inadequacies of the new
forms of communication the CFI developed, however, I heed Alan
Irwin’s call to trace the ways in which old and new approaches
to
communication coexist and view the CFI’s initiatives as
symptomatic of the evolving state of science-society relations.4
In his analysis of a series of official reports as well as an orches-
trated public debate about genetic modification in Britain, Irwin
argues that “at the heart of the ‘new’ resides some very ‘old’
assumptions.”5 He describes reports on these events reading “as if
two voices are struggling to be heard”: a dominant voice stresses
dialogue, while the other evokes scientistic assumptions about
public deficits and the need for deference to expertise.6 Simi-
larly, my analysis attends to the coexistence of the “new” and the
“old” in the CFI’s approach to building trust with consumers, lis-
tens for the struggle between two voices striving to be heard, and
views the stresses and strains as symptomatic of the evolving
relationship between the food industry, science, and the public.
THE CENTER FOR FOOD INTEGRIT Y
The Center for Food Integrity was founded in 2007 by Charlie

Arnot. As a point of reference relative to the emergence of the Real
Food frame (and as discussed in chapter 1), Kelly Brownell—the

obesity researcher who drew parallels between the food industry
and Big Tobacco and introduced the term “Big Food” into the cul-
tural lexicon—published Food Fight in 2004 and was named one
of the world’s one hundred most influential people by Time maga-
zine in 2006. In 2007 Michael Pollan published both the Omnivore’s
Dilemma and “Unhappy Meals,” the New York Times article argu-
ing, among other things, that we would be better off if we followed
“traditional authorities” rather than scientists regarding our eat-
ing habits.7 Meanwhile, Arnot learned firsthand that science was no
longer a reliable way to earn and maintain the trust of consumers.
Working in PR for the pork industry for about a decade,
Arnot deployed established communication strategies, which he
described as using “really good science,” attacking “those who
attacked us,” and engaging in traditional public relations. Over
time, however, he found that those strategies were no longer work-
ing. In the 1990s the company Arnot worked for was reshaping the
pork industry with massive infusions of capital and rapid expan-
sion (a barn a day at one point) and became the focus of intense
public scrutiny after some “environmental incidents.” According
to Arnot, the company had the data it needed to support its claims
that water leaving its property was cleaner than when it came in,
as well as all kinds of data to support other environmental claims.
The company even had benchmarking showing that the steps it
was taking to manage its public image should be working. None-
theless, at one point the company was being sued by the state, the
federal government, and a citizen’s group. In 1995 Willie Nelson
held a protest concert next to one of its farms.8 Arnot concluded
that he needed a new strategy and started a PR company focused
on building trust rather than “defending a position,” which even-
tually led to his founding of the CFI.9
The vision of the CFI was “a transparent sustainable food sys-

tem in which practices align with consumer expectations and the
public discussion is well-informed and balanced.”10 It described
its role as “leading the public discussion in fostering trust and
facilitating dialogue with stakeholders across the food chain to
bridge the gap with consumers” and pursued this with a range
of research, communication, and training efforts. These included
the annual “Trust Reports,” based on extensive research con-
ducted by the CFI, as well as conferences, webinars, trainings,
and coaching, including events designed for specific organiza-
tions. The CFI also hosted a consumer-facing website called Best
Food Facts and engaged in coalition work on specific challenges
facing the food industry, such as sustainable egg production and
building trust for gene editing.11
Structurally, the CFI was a nonprofit supported by its mem-
bers and managed by Arnot’s PR firm, Look East, on behalf of
a board of directors. It asserted that it did not “lobby or advo-
cate for individual food companies or brands” and described its
members as representing “the diversity of the food system, from
farmers and ranchers to universities, NGOs, restaurants, food
companies, retailers, and food processors.”12 A 2017 membership
list included fifty distinct organizations, over half of which were
trade groups or commodity boards representing large segments
of the food and agricultural industries. These included powerful
national organizations such as the American Farm Bureau Fed-
eration, Dairy Farmers of America, the Food Marketing Institute,
the Grocery Manufacturers Association, and the United Soybean
Board, along with about twenty-five state-level organizations pri-
marily representing corn and soybean producers, with some also
coming from dairy and pork. Corporate members included giants
from the retail sector (Costco, Kroger, Wegmans), the chemical
and pharmaceutical sectors (Dupont, Monsanto, Merk), food pro-

duction (Cargill, Grupo Bimbo, Hershey’s), and animal agricul-
tural (Smithfield, Purdue, Maple Leaf Foods). The World Wildlife
Fund and Chick-fil-A were notable outliers among these general
trends, and the list also included Michigan State University and
Purdue University.13
Functionally, the CFI was a cross between a trade association
and a PR firm. It represented the interests of its corporate mem-
bers, as trade groups do, but focused on communication between
the food industry and the public. Because Arnot came from pub-
lic relations, the CFI applied a sophisticated PR tool kit to rethink-
ing how the food industry communicated with the public. The
CFI did engage in some public-facing work, primarily through
its Best Food Facts website, which stated that its goal was “to
load your plate with a balanced diet of data so that you can make
informed decisions for yourself and your family.”14 But its main
audience was the food industry. Thus, I focus on the Center’s
industry-facing work to explore how it sought to rebuild the rela-
tionship between the food industry and the public. How was the
public imagined and projected in this evolved approach to com-
munication? What were the politics and antipolitics of the CFI’s
“trust-building transparency”?
S C I E NC E DE N I E D: W H AT COM E S A F T E R R E A L FAC T S ?
In 2009 Charlie Arnot and five other researchers associated with

the Center for Food Integrity and Arnot’s private PR firm coau-
thored an article with the Iowa State University sociologist Ste-
phen Sapp in Rural Sociology. “Consumer Trust in the U.S. Food
System: An Examination of the Recreancy Theorem” established
a trust model that would inform the CFI’s work for decades to
come, as well as the academic credibility it needed to get the

attention of skeptical members of the food industry.15 The prem-
ise of the research was that the cause of growing public concerns
about the industrial food system was distance and alienation.
It described consumers as increasingly worried about safety
and nutrition and the externalities of the food system, such as
environmental degradation and the treatment of employees and
animals, because “most know little about how food is produced,
processed, transported or prepared for sale.” The authors noted,
“In short, now that Americans no longer live on the farm, they
wonder what’s going on down on it. And they worry that the news
is not good. At the same time, consumer opinions significantly
affect the structure and management of the U.S. system, resulting
in what some . . . have depicted as consumer-driven agriculture.”
The article went on to also note, however, that social scientists
had proven that “‘just tell them the facts’ was a flawed approach
both in its presumptions and its applications.”16 Given this, they
argued, there was a need for “sound basic science” to foster public
trust in the food system.17
In pursuit of this, the article presented research explor-
ing the extent to which lack of public trust in the food system
might be explained by something called the “recreancy theo-
rem,” which posited that people’s evaluation of risk was based
not solely on quantitative risk assessments issued by experts
but also on their evaluation of societal institutions, in particu-
lar their assessments of institutional responsibility. According
to the theory, trust was lost when institutions were “recreant,”
or failed to behave in accordance with the public’s expectations.
The research sought to measure the extent to which public trust
could be explained by perceptions of the “the competence of insti-
tutional actors and their belief that these actors will behave with
fiduciary responsibility.”18 Specifically, it tested the effects of com-

petence (skills and expertise) and fiduciary responsibility (the felt
obligation to act on behalf of the trusting party) on public trust
with respect to food safety, nutrition, environmental protection,
employee care, and the treatment of livestock, using two internet
surveys conducted in 2007 and 2008.
The results of the research shocked even Arnot himself. He
had been so sure that the study would confirm that science and
facts were the answer to building trust that when he saw the data
sets he thought they had been accidentally switched.19 The
results showed not only that the recreancy theorem did explain
consumer trust in institutional actors in the US food system
and that most variances in trust were due to competence and
belief in fiduciary responsibility but also that the effects of fidu-
ciary responsibility outweighed those of competence by about
three to one. In other words, while informing the public about
the competence of institutional actors in the food system was
important, conveying “a sense of responsibility” to the pub-
lic might be even more important to building trust. The arti-
cle advised, therefore, that companies take “actions indicating
corporate social responsibility and responsiveness to technolo-
gy-related problems.” It concluded that “exploring approaches
to engendering institutional fiduciary responsibility might be
more productive than
sharpening institutional actors’ tech-
niques of risk communication about their skills and exper-
tise.”20 Based on these foundational findings, the Center for Food
Integrity went on to conduct ongoing research and develop a
host of programs designed to convince and enable institutional
actors within the food system to build trust through engage-
ment with the public around values rather than simply assert-
ing facts and expertise.
The CFI introduced its new trust model in the first of its annual
trust reports, published in 2011. The opening pages depicted the
new trust model as a balance with “shared values” on one end
outweighing “skills” on the other, along with text explaining that
“shared values are 3–5x more important in building trust than
competence” (Fig. 10). The message conveyed in this graphic was
also emphasized by a quote, attributed to Theodore R
oosevelt:
“People don’t care how much you know until they know how much
you care.” In seeking to motivate food industry communicators
to consider this novel approach, the report explained the reason
building and maintaining trust was so important: at stake was
“social license,” or the freedom to operate with minimal “formal-
ized restrictions.” If the industry did not act to effectively estab-
lish trust with consumers, the report warned, it would face “social
control” through regulation, legislation, litigation, or m
arket man-
dates, which are costly and lead to both the loss of “operational
flexibility” and increases in “bureaucratic compliance.”21
The report went on to explain that the tactics the industry
had been using to maintain social license such as “attacking the
attackers,” using “science alone to justify current practices,” and
confusing “scientific verification with ethical justification” were
no longer effective and even likely to increase suspicion and
skepticism. To secure social license, the food industry needed
to do something different: namely, embrace “meaningful stake-
holder engagement and effective values-based messaging” and
ensure practices were ethically grounded and aligned with
the values of stakeholders. While these were big steps to take, the
report
reiterated that “maintaining public trust that protects
your social license to operate is not an act of altruism; it is enlight-
ened self-interest.”22 The CFI was not always as overt about this
instrumentalization of trust, but its work was ever driven by
WHAT DRIVES CONSUMER TRUST?
SHARED FACTS
VALUES
TRUST
Figure 10.
Figure 10. An
An illustration
illustration of the CFI’s finding that shared values are three to five
times more
times more important
important than competence, or facts, in building trust between the
food industry
food industry and
and the public. Center for Food Integrity, https://foodintegrity.org
/trust-practices/first-in-consumer-trust/what-drives-trust. © 2006 CMA Consult-
/trust-practices/first-in-consumer-trust/what-drives-trust.
ing. Courtesy
ing. Courtesy of
of Charlie Arnot, Center for Food Integrity.
the aim
the aim of maintaining social license. As Brian Wynne notes,
““instrumentalization
instrumentalization of trust” is a contradiction in terms. And his
critique is prescient for the CFI: “Instrumentalism itself is not the
critique
problem, but the assumption and imposition of the terms of this
problem,
imagined and instrumental outcome on the other participants
imagined
while deceiving oneself into thinking that one is genuinely listen-
while
ing to
ing to them.”23
23
While the CFI challenged the Real Facts frame by advocating

While
aa new
new approach to communication that centered values rather
than facts,
than facts, food
food scientism
scientism shaped
shaped the
the strategies
strategies it
it promoted.
promoted.
This was
This was especially
especially clear
clear in
in the
the CFI’s
CFI’s second
second trust
trust report,
report, “Crack-
“Crack-
ing the
ing the Code
Code on
on Food
Food Issues,”
Issues,” published
published in
in 2014
2014 and
and mentioned
mentioned
at the
at the beginning
beginning of
of this
this chapter.
chapter. The
The signs
signs of
of scientism
scientism were
were clear
clear
in the premise, which was that problems in public trust in the
in the premise, which was that problems in public trust in the
food system
food system were
were the
the result
result of
of consumers
consumers not
not accepting
accepting scientific
scientific
truth: “Overwhelming
truth: “Overwhelming scientific
scientific consensus
consensus tells
tells us
us that
that childhood
childhood
vaccines and
vaccines and genetically
genetically modified
modified foods
foods are
are safe,
safe, that
that humans
humans
contribute more to antibiotic resistance than animals, and that

climate change is real. Yet the debate rages on.” It defined the goal
of communication with the public as “informed public evalua-
tion” of the use of technology in the food system, which suggested
the opening up of dialogue, but also fostering “informed decision
making that encourages technology and innovation in society’s
best interest,” which hints at the predetermined aims of such dia-
logue. The opening paragraphs explained that while the use of
technology in food and agriculture provided countless benefits
to society, some issues remained contentious “no matter what sci-
ence says,” thus asserting a scientistic premise that the problem is
not how science and technology are deployed within the food sys-
tem but the public’s unfounded skepticism. However, the report
also described consumer concerns as understandable and urged
the industry to shift its goals from winning conversations to find-
ing meaningful ways of introducing science and technology into
the decision-making process.24
“Cracking the Code” set out to get the food industry to accept
that consumer decision making was driven by more than just
facts and to help readers understand the roles that beliefs, opin-
ions, and feelings played in how people evaluated the use of
technology in the food system. Drawing on theories from anthro-
pology, sociology, and psychology, the report explained that the
decision-making process was complex and social, an orientation
that suggested the possibility of taking seriously the kinds of con-
cerns about the food system that constituted the Real Food frame.
But the drive toward “informed decision making” reframed what
might otherwise have been understood as politics driven by con-
tested values as new forms of deficits that needed to be overcome.
This was depicted graphically in the “Decision-Making Maze,”
in which a woman pushing a shopping cart stands on one side
of a maze, “informed decision making” on the other. Within the

maze, all the pathways that might lead the shopper to “informed
decision making” are blocked by orange construction cones, each
bearing a flag labeled with the name of a barrier: bounded ratio-
nality, tribal communication, a history of contradictions, con-
firmation bias, bad news bias, big is bad bias, influence of group
values, and scientific illiteracy (Fig. 11).25 Shaped by insights from
the social sciences, these barriers looked different from the cog-
nitive deficits of the original deficit model and even the deficits of
trust and understanding of the benefits technology Wynne iden-
tified in his list of abandoned but reinvented public deficit mod-
els. Like them, however, these deficits were accompanied by the
underlying assumption that public responses were emotional,
“epistemologically empty,” and susceptible to misinformation.26
Among the barriers to informed decision making in the maze
all but “a history of contradiction” pointed to social, emotional,
or cognitive conditions, or deficits, affecting consumers rather
than industry behaviors that might be a cause for reasonable
skepticism. For example, the “biases” in the maze all pointed
toward psychological conditions residing within consumers
and causing them to be unable to see things how they really
are. “Confirmation bias” described a tendency to favor informa-
tion that confirms existing beliefs and values whether or not it’s
true, which the report described as particularly prevalent when
it comes to “emotionally charged” issues like choosing how to
feed your family. “Bad news bias” referred to the tendency for
negative information to weigh more heavily on decisions than
positive information, which meant that any bit of “bad news”
shared about the industry could have an outsized influence
on the erosion of trust. “Big is bad bias” pointed to the ten-
dency among consumers to mistakenly believe that the larger a
Figure 11. “The Decision-Making Maze” illustrates the social and psychological
factors that come between shoppers and “informed decision making.” Center for
Food Integrity, “Cracking the Code on Food Issues: Insights from Moms, Milleni-
als and Foodies,” Consumer Trust Research, 2014, p. 6. Courtesy of Charlie Arnot,
Center for Food Integrity.
company, the less likely it was to share their values. The report
acknowledged that the emergence of “big is bad bias” was con-
nected to a broader erosion of trust in “big” due to deadly inci-
dents caused by technologies that were supposed to be safe, but
the examples (oil spills and car crashes) made no mention of such
incidents in the food and agriculture sectors, and the “bias” label
reinforced locating the problem within the minds of individual
members of the public rather than the actions of those who they
held accountable.27
The rest of the barriers in the maze focused on how “informed
decision making” was also compromised by the social context in
which decisions were made. For example, “tribal communica-
tion” among communities of shared values online was described
as giving anyone a platform by which to influence others, lead-
ing people to “assign credibility to those who share tribal values
but lack technical expertise to support decision making that

incorporates factual information.” Furthermore, people tended
to endorse positions shared by their social group and inter-
pret any new evidence through the lens of their existing biases
(aka “Influence of Group Values,” a concept developed by Yale
Law School’s Cultural Cognition Project). “Bounded rationality”
described how decision making was inevitably limited because
most decision makers did not have the resources to fully under-
stand a complex issue and therefore decided based on very lit-
tle knowledge. Old school deficit thinking, with its emphasis on
cognitive deficits, also got a mention with one barrier labeled “sci-
entific illiteracy.” Moving beyond both psychology and the social
context for decision making, “a history of contradictions,” was
the only barrier to refer outward toward the actual conditions
of the food system, noting that “informed decision making” had
been compromised by ever-changing nutritional advice, such as
about whether foods like butter, eggs, and coffee are “good for
us.” Nonetheless, this depiction narrowly implicated nutrition
rather than its uptake in industry marketing or industry influ-
ence on the production of contradictions through the funding of
self-interested studies.28
C O N N E C T I N G T H R O U G H S H A R E D VA L U E S
The central message of the CFI’s 2014 report was that “connecting
through values” was the first step in “cracking the code on food
issues.” As it explained, “Only after you state the values-based
connection are you given ‘permission’ to introduce technical
information.”29 This message was at the heart of all the CFI’s work
as it taught industry communicators that barriers to “informed”
decision making could not be overcome with information alone;
“shared values” had to come first. Centering values represented
a significant departure from typical Real Facts–informed

approaches to communication with the public and opened
possibilities for industry actions to be influenced by consumer
values and concerns, which is explored in the next section. But
a look at how the CFI trained industry members to interact with
individuals and the media through shared values also reveals the
persistence of scientism and its antipolitics.
The Engage training was one of many means through
which the CFI prepared industry members to communicate and
build trust through shared values. The training was initially
offered as interactive workshops teaching participants how to
communicate with consumers, the media, and online audiences,
as well as on college campuses through a program called “Engage
Young Leaders” that focused on training college students to “advo-
cate for their industries.”30 Starting in 2017, the Engage training
was also available in five interactive online modules modeled
after the in-person course, which a press release described as
having trained thousands in the food and agricultural indus-
tries since it first launched in 2009.31 The first two modules of
the online training explained the social context for the erosion
of trust in agriculture and introduced the importance of shared
values as the foundation for building trust. In the other three
modules—“The Power of Shared Values,” “Engage in Three Sim-
ple Steps,” and “Your Values Message”—participants learned and
practiced how to connect through shared values.
One aim of the training was to teach participants what a values
statement was and how to recognize the difference between val-
ues statements and those based on science or economics, so they
could learn to lead with values. Thus, the lessons asserted both the
inclusive aspiration to center values and the scientistic assump-
tion that economics and science were distinct from values. In
one activity, for example, the learner was presented with a series
of statements and prompted to choose whether the statement
reflected science, economics, or values. While the lesson acknowl-
edged that both consumers and producers had values, it also
presented industry views on controversial technologies as scien-
tific rather than values-driven. Consumers’ values needed to be
engaged with because they could get in the way of their accep-
tance of what the industry already knew was right based on sci-
ence and economics, which were seen as separate from values.
After they practiced distinguishing values statements from
those based in science and economics, participants in the Engage
training learned that the first step in having values-based
conversations was actively listening, without judgment, so as to
understand how people’s concerns about the food system were
connected to their values. In one exercise participants viewed a
clip of a consumer talking about her Real Food frame–informed
concerns. While these concerns might normally be dismissed
as irrational, here participants were prompted to select the val-
ues the consumer was expressing, such as “this person values
food source and safety,” “this person values trust,” or “this per-
son values animal welfare.” They were then guided to find shared
values by asking questions that helped to further the conversa-
tion. One exercise presented a series of statements consumers
might make about modern agriculture or food processing and
prompted participants to select responses that showed interest
and helped invite further conversation. For example, in one sce-
nario a consumer says, “What I hear about industrial agriculture
affecting the environment today is very concerning. I just have a
lot more trust and respect for family farmers.” Wrong answers:
“Aren’t all farmers local to someone?” and “Agriculture affect-
ing the environment? Let’s talk about all the others at the table!”
Right answer: “When you say ‘industrial agriculture’ what do you

mean?” A pop-up response explained that this kind of question
would give the industry communicator insight into the consum-
er’s values and perceptions and offered some encouragement for
difficult encounters: “Don’t let your feathers get ruffled!”32
The next step in the Engage training’s communication pro-
cess was for the industry member to share their own perspective
through values, adding facts only after the connection had been
made. While centering values suggested the possibility of dia-
logue and even disagreement, the process of engaging values the
CFI taught was about finding areas of agreement. The point was
not to explore the values driving different visions of how technol-
ogy should be used in the food system, and toward what ends, but
to find common ground. The training prompted participants to
reflect on and identify their own values but also explained that
connecting through shared values did not require sharing per-
sonal values with your audience because universal values such
as compassion, responsibility, respect, fairness, and truth are
widely shared and can be a “go to” for quickly finding common
ground. After learning to listen for common ground and ask ques-
tions for clarification, participants were coached to talk about
why they do what they do through slightly more specific yet also
very abstracted values, such as “protecting the land, ensuring a
safe food supply, caring for your employees, contributing to your
community and taking care of your animals.”33 While politics
resides in the details of how these values are acted upon, Engage
enacted antipolitics by teaching communicators not to discuss or
deliberate these differences but to establish agreement around
abstracted principles in order to pave the way for the industry
member to then introduce facts, framed as value-neutral.
The training ended with a series of scenarios in which
the entire Engage process was put into practice; industry
members bumped into the Real Food frame in public settings

and participants selected options for moving through difficult
conversations by finding common ground. When Ben starts
a conversation in the produce section about how he has heard
that GMOs are harmful and prefers to buy food “that’s grown the
natural way,” the right response was not about research show-
ing there are no nutritional or safety differences in food with
GM ingredients, or citing extensive safety testing, but acknowl-
edging shared values around food safety: “It’s understandable
you want safe food for your family—of course, I do too. Being part
of this industry, I know farmers feel responsible for growing safe
food for their families and ours.” After Ben says he has also heard
GMOs are bad for the environment, tempting wrong answers
included, “Yes, but that’s just not true. Have you done any research
on how regulatory agencies test to ensure GMOs don’t adversely
affect humans?” The right answer was empathetic rather than
dismissive and ostensibly established a shared value (protecting
the environment) before presenting facts: “I have. Protecting the
environment is so important to farmers. It may be surprising, but
did you know that GMO crops actually help farmers reduce their
environmental impact?”34
Similarly, in an encounter at a petting zoo Mia shares her
concerns about animals being raised indoors without access to
“natural things like grass and water.” Wrong answers were con-
frontational and facts driven, addressing perceived cognitive
deficits: “Pictures that are floating around give modern agricul-
ture a bad rap. We’ve kept animals indoors for centuries. Animal
welfare regulations promote the welfare of animals.” The right
answer was understanding, assumed a deficit of trust rather than
information, and used abstractions that were easily agreed on to
endorse practices that were harder to agree on: “Animal health
is important to me too. The indoor environment allows me to
ensure their health and respond quickly should they become

sick.”35 Nowhere were the commitments to GMOs, antibiotic use,
or indoor animal agriculture discussed in relation to the larger
values driving the use of such technologies in the food system. As
the next section explores, such concerns about values were seen
as forms of “bias” to be overcome through new communication
strategies rather than legitimate disagreements that might be
engaged through debate or dialogue.
T R A N S PA R E NC Y M E E T S “ BIG I S B A D BI A S ”
In the Engage training, transparency was evocatively depicted as

an empty picture frame gripped by two raised hands in the mid-
dle of a sky dotted with white clouds. While the intent seemed
to be to conjure the notion of transparency as a window onto
an unobstructed reality, together the sky continuing beyond the
boundaries of the empty frame and the hands wrapped tightly
around that frame suggested the inevitable and even intentional
circumscription of what is “revealed” by transparency (Fig. 12).
Similarly, the title of the CFI’s 2015 Research Report, “A Clear
View of T
ransparency and How to Build Consumer Trust,” con-
jured the promise of transparency to provide an unobstructed
view of r eality, but the strategies behind creating the experience
of transparency for consumers were clearly more complex than
the simple, honest revealing of reality that was implied.36 The his-
torian Anna Zeide notes that transparency has been a core prob-
lem facing the food industry since its inception. According to her
research, in the early days of food processing manufacturers
sought various ways of overcoming the fact that consumers could
not see into cans, including scientific research meant to ensure
safety and thus trust. She notes that transparency has ever since
Figure 12. A graphic from the CFI’s Engage online training

illustrating the paradoxes of transparency. Center for Food
Integrity, “Engage Online,” 2017. Courtesy of Charlie Arnot,
remained a complicated and shifting goal for the food industry,

used strategically and for its own purposes along with other mar-
keting tools.37 At the same time, transparency has been a goal of
many Real Food frame proponents who have sought to “lift the
veil” on the food system, teaching people where their food comes
from as a foundation for bringing a better one into being, as seen
for example in Food, Inc. (see chapter 2).38 Yet scholars of the food
system and beyond have also explored the limits and contradic-
tions inherent in the pursuit of transparency.
Speaking broadly of the culture-wide embrace of transpar-
ency, the scholar of contemporary culture Claire Birchall notes it
has become “the secular version of a born-again cleanliness that
few can fail to praise,” a sign of both cultural and moral author-
ity. Yet, she argues, secrecy is not the opposite of transparency so
much as it is integral to and constitutive of it.39 Writing about prac-
tices of auditing, quality assurance, and accountability in the uni-
versity setting, the anthropologist Marilyn Strathern similarly
notes there is “nothing innocent about making the invisible vis-

ible.” She argues that while such practices produce a lot of infor-
mation, they tend to ignore if not obscure “the ‘real’ w
orkings”
of institutions, such as their values and social structure.40 Build-
ing on these insights, Susanne Friedberg explores the “paradoxes
of transparency” in specialty produce supply chains as retail-
ers in the UK responded to growing consumers demands for
transparency. Notably, she found that transparency in practice
not only produced new forms of vulnerability and exploitation
in food exporting countries but also left these power dynamics
entirely outside of the frame: “what transparency concealed, ulti-
mately, was the power that made transparency possible.”41 The
CFI’s pursuit of transparency built on the long history of trans-
parency as a food industry marketing concern, responded to the
Real Food frame’s interest in the promises of transparency, and
was fraught with paradoxes.
The CFI developed and advanced an approach to transparency
that was based on “7 Elements of Transparency.” The foundational
element was “Motivation,” which was about overcoming “motiva-
tion bias,” also known as “big is bad bias.” According to the CFI, this
bias caused the public to believe that the larger an institution was,
the less likely it was to be motivated by the public good as opposed
to profit. As previously discussed, the CFI generally portrayed this
“bias” as having little to do with the behavior of the food indus-
try, locating it instead within the minds of consumers, a point
driven home by an illustration in its 2015 report showing a human
head with “big is bad” written in the brain area (Fig. 13).42
More specifically, the CFI understood motivation bias as
the result of an unfortunate confluence of broader changes in
institutional trust and advancements in agriculture. According to
their oft-repeated narrative, 1968 was a watershed year in which
everything started to change for trust in institutions through the
The
The Paradoxes
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165
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unfolding of events such as the Vietnam War, the assassinations

of Robert Kennedy and Martin Luther King Jr., and soon after
the Kent State massacre, then Watergate. The violations of trust
in institutions kept coming in a “cascade” that included Three
Mile Island, Iran Contra, Exxon Valdez, and scandals iinvolving
nvolving
Jimmy Swaggart and Jim Bakker in the 1970s and 1980s, fol-
lowed by the Clinton scandal, Arthur Andersen, Abu Ghraib, the
subprime mortgage crisis, the BP oil spill, and more in the 1990s
and into the 2000s.43
43 According to the CFI, while these assaults
on trust occurred outside the food system, they coincided with

the food system becoming larger and more integrated, industri-
alized, and consolidated, thus increasingly resembling the kind
of iinstitution
nstitution the public was learning to distrust.44
44 Because of
this, positive advancements in agriculture and the food system

were m
mistakenly
istakenly caught up in the growing worldview among
cconsumers
onsumers that large institutions were not to be trusted. Accord-
ing to the CFI, those working in the food system had “assumed
that consumers would think our advancements were good,”
but because of its size Big Food was increasingly perceived as
“out of touch with the values of the consumers and likely to put
profit ahead of public interest.”45
45
For the CFI, the fundamental aim of transparency was to

overcome this mistaken perception that the bigger a company
was, the more likely it was to be motivated by profit rather than
public interest. That is why the first element of transparency
entailed acting “in a manner that is ethical and consistent with
stakeholder interest.”46 The CFI taught that companies should
both adopt and communicate motivations that responded
to the public’s desire to see that “ethical principles seem to guide
the behavior of the company.” According to the first element
of transparency, the public also wanted to know that a company
was “interested in the well-being of people like me, not just itself.”
They wanted to see that a company wants to be accountable for its
actions, that it does not intentionally mislead people, and “when
making d
ecisions, [it] takes public interest into consideration
rather than only considering profits.”47
Paradoxically, while these suggestions were designed to
address public concerns about the role of profit in decision mak-
ing, they did not include the role of profit within the scope of what
was revealed by transparency, instead redirecting attention to
ethical principles and public interest. According to Claire Mar-
ris, strategies like this are based on a persistent misunderstand-
ing of the public’s concern about profit. She argues that skeptical
reactions of the public “are often reactions to the absence of any
mention of commercial purposes in public communication. Thus,
public responses are misinterpreted as a negative response to
profit-making per se, rather than to this lack of transparency.” The
misunderstanding, she notes, creates a “vicious circle whereby
public communication actively promotes grand societal prom-
ises, while minimizing profit motives, thus generating more pub-
lic alienation.”48 Seen in this light, the CFI’s trust-building strategy
was built on a fundamental paradox in which concerns about the
role profit played in “Motivation” were addressed through forms
of transparency that occluded, rather than included, the role that

profit played in motivation.
The other six elements of transparency that the CFI promoted
also generated paradoxes as they reached for meaningful
engagement with consumer values but generally delivered

deficit-driven tactics that did little to address legitimate concerns
the public might have about the effects of consolidation in the
food industry. The second element, “Disclosure,” was described
as treating consumer concerns as “real” and sharing informa-
tion, both positive and negative, that is useful, easy to understand,
and timely. Element 3 was “Stakeholder Participation,” which was
explicitly about moving beyond the deficit-driven facts-dumping
approach of the Real Facts frame by explaining how decisions are
made and asking for opinions and input before making decisions.
“Relevance” entailed sharing information deemed relevant by
stakeholders; “Clarity” emphasized providing information that
was easy to understand; and “Accuracy” meant the information
was accurate, reliable, and did not leave out relevant information.
The final element, “Credibility,” required that the company apolo-
gize when it made mistakes, demonstrated it cared, engaged crit-
ics, and presented more than one side of controversial issues.49
Despite the potential for meaningful engagement, and even
politics, that these elements suggest, the practices that followed
were heavy on one-way disclosures of information that seemed
designed to address perceived cognitive deficits and focused solely
on downstream impacts rather than the value commitments that
drive Big Food. As Wynne argues, even when public discourses
are enlarged to include the public’s ethical concerns about science
and technology, they often “exacerbate pubic alienation and mis-
trust” by imposing a limited definition of what counts as an eth-
ical issues, attending only “to downstream impacts” rather than
the “upstream (usually unaccountable) driving human visions,
interests and purposes” that shape the development and uses of

science and innovation.50
In a 2015 webinar series on transparency the CFI recom
mended best practices related to a variety of topics. When it came
to food and health, for example, the webinar explained that the
best p
ractice was to “engage in a meaningful and two-way dia-
logue.” However, examples of how to do so were heavy on the
distribution of “information” such as providing ingredients glos-
saries, using simple names for ingredients, including informa-
tion about preservatives and GMOs on product labels, and making
product information easily available through QR, or quick
response, codes. With regard to food safety, the webinar pointed
out that consumers wanted to hear “both sides of the story” but
emphasized the “accurate presentation of risk,” conceived through
a narrow scientistic lens of quantitative risk assessment. Best
practices also included taking concerns about animal well-being
seriously, addressing them by providing videos demonstrating
the treatment of animals and describing the training of animal
caretakers.51 While responsive to consumers’ concerns that previ-
ously may have been dismissed as misinformed, videos about ani-
mal treatment—like many of the other best practices suggested in
the webinar—provided a highly curated, one-way flow of infor-
mation already constrained by embedded normative assump-
tions about the goals, purpose, and values of the food system.
While consistently paradoxical, the “7 Elements of Trans-
parency” as envisioned by the CFI did open the possibility for
public concerns about the food system to have an impact on
the decisions of corporate actors. Theoretically at least, align-
ing industry behavior with consumer values and expecta-
tions was the ultimate aim of trust-building transparency, and
the CFI emphasized that transparency was not, and could not
be, simply PR. Arnot explicitly argued that transparency had

to be “genuine and authentic” and warned that if a company
approached t ransparency as PR it was likely to end up worse off
than it was before.52 The Center’s communication and trainings
around transparency emphasized that motives, practices, and
communication all mattered. C
ommunication without a true
commitment to “doing what’s right” was described as pointless,
as was a credible commitment without effective communication
strategies; “genuine transparency” comes from a combination
of the two.53 Arnot explained that once the “curtain is lifted”
through the practices of transparency, consumers would either
appreciate that company practices aligned with their values or
discover that practices were “fundamentally inconsistent with
their values and demand change or reject the brand.” In either
case, transparency resulted in alignment of consumer values
and corporate behavior.54 Thus, while the transparency pro-
moted by the CFI functioned as PR aimed at maintaining social
license for Big Food, because it had to be grounded in behaviors
that were adapted to consumer concerns it also had potential to
effect changes in how companies operated.
The mandate for transparency to act as a feedback loop between
consumers and corporate practices was present throughout the
CFI’s publications, trainings, webinars, and so on, intermingling
with another “voice” similar to the older voice Irwin observed,
which he described as operating “within a narrower universe
in which objectives are clear and decision-making involves
choosing between alternative methods for attaining them.”55 This
was especially evident in the “Optimizing Sustainability Proj-
ect,” which launched in 2018 as a series of printed reports and in
2020 as a website with click-through modules. The project was
designed to provide a framework to help companies respond to
pressure from “stakeholders to adopt or reject a specific practice.”

It viewed “sustainability” in a way that was consistent with the
concerns of the Real Food frame, defining it as “incorporating
interconnected sets of issues tied to being a responsible consumer
and responsible citizen” and including not only environmental
issues but health, wellness, animal welfare, labor issues, food
waste, packaging, and “impacts on local and indigenous commu-
nities.”56 The modules taught companies that before they could
be ready to respond to a request from the public related to sus-
tainability practices they needed to set their own sustainability
priorities through an eight-step process that included appointing
leadership; identifying objectives, internal and external stake-
holders, and relevant sustainability attributes; extensive data
collection and analysis of stakeholder concerns to identify prior-
ity issues; and evaluation of potential trade-offs between priority
attributes using techniques such as life cycle assessment. When
it received a request to change its practices, the company should
then undertake another process in which it conducted research
to understand the issue, evaluated the source of the request, and
assessed the relationship of the request to current sustainability
priorities. If the request aligned with the sustainability strategy
and priorities, the company should then communicate about how
the issue was already being addressed. If not, the company should
undertake an extensive review of trade-offs and implications
and then decide whether to “agree to or decline to take the
requested action or position” and finally plan its communication
strategy.57 This process clearly set up the potential for the pub-
lic’s values and concerns to influence corporate practices that was
not present within a typical Real Facts–informed, linear model of
communication. At the same time, these moves toward openness
and inclusion remained constrained by food scientism.
The Optimizing Sustainability training included examples

for evaluating trade-offs related to cage-free egg produc-
tion,
conservation tillage in corn production, rBST-free milk,
and
slower-growing chickens (broilers) that were shaped by
predetermined notions of relevant expertise and embedded

assumptions about the values and priorities of the food system.
While seeking to exemplify a balanced appraisal of trade-offs,
each of these case studies drew on a single source of scientific
information that was already heavily influenced by industry
interests. The broiler production case drew on a study by the
National Chicken Council and the milk production case on a study
by the Innovation Center for U.S. Dairy, both major industry trade
groups. The corn tillage case drew on research conducted by the
US Department of A
gricultural Research Service at UC Davis and
the egg production assessment drew on research by the CFIs Coa-
lition for S
ustainable Egg Production, whose members included
over 20 poultry trade groups and corporations, plus a handful of
academic scientific groups and the American Humane Society.
In each case, while the evaluation of trade-offs was presented
as objective, it was laden with normative assumptions about
how the food system should work, and the values driving it. For
example, in the broiler case, the assessment found that raising
slower growing birds would cause a “sharp increase in chicken
prices” noting that such increases “would increase food insta-
bility for those who can least afford to absorb increased in food
prices.” Among other things, this assumed that all costs would
be passed on to consumers while ignoring, for example, the
well-documented role the food industry itself played in creating
widespread food insecurity among its own workers through low
wages.58 When it came to the question of whether any of these
trade-offs might be worth it because of benefits to health and
welfare, the assessment cited the absence of research in this area,

not surprising given the politics of “undone science.”59 Each of the
cases, similarly, folded normative values into the assessment of
what were called “economic attributes,” such as “food affordabil-
ity,” and disregarded the politics of expertise that informed them,
thus delineating a purview for transparency that did not include
how knowledge was produced or came to matter.60
The many assumptions that informed and constrained these
case studies were a microcosm of the ways in which the CFI’s
vision of engaging through shared values and building trust
through transparency opened new opportunities for listen-
ing, understanding, and engagement between Big Food and the
public while also enacting antipolitics through what was either
taken for granted or entirely left out of the frame. Across the CFI’s
work, the technological promises of “modern agriculture” were
both explicitly and implicitly taken for granted. Public concerns
were framed as emotional and psychological and as focused on
downstream impacts rather than “the upstream driving pur-

poses” of the food system. The only options that animated these
antipolitics of transparency were acceptance or rejection; despite
the promise of engagement and dialogue, there was still no room
left for what Wynne describes as “constructive negotiation of
possible alternatives, multiple trajectories, and different technol-
ogies, including of different social ends.”61
“THE MOV EA BLE MIDDLE”
Throughout its efforts to promote trust building through shared

values and transparency, the CFI also offered guidance to the
food industry about who not to engage with, when to disengage,
and where to focus to have the most influence. The very first
trust report defined the CFI’s aim as a food system that was “truly
sustainable and supported by our stakeholders and a rational

majority of consumers,” thus subtly but clearly signaling that some
audiences were too “irrational” to be part of the conversation.62
Advice in the Engage training about where to focus and not
focus communication efforts also illustrated this point of view.
In Engage, the target audience was referred to as “the moveable
middle.” A slide depicted “the moveable middle” as the center
of a bell curve, with arrows noting to “focus here,” while at
either end of the curve more arrows warned “don’t concentrate
here.” Conflating malleability toward predetermined ends with
sincerity and rationality, Engage lessons described people in
the movable middle as “the reasonable majority that craves bal-
anced information about food from trusted sources” and “those
who have s incere questions and a desire to know how their food is
produced.”63 This implied, in contrast, that those outside the mid-
dle were not worth engaging with because their views were too
extreme or entrenched to be considered reasonable, or “move-
able.” This focus on malleable audiences in the Engage training
and beyond m
irrors the “high valuation on mobility of citizens
and their opinions” that Javier Lezaun and Linda Soneryd found
in their analysis of “the configuration of legitimate constitu-
encies” in exercises designed to elicit the public’s opinions on
technoscientific matters. They describe an antipolitics enacted
through the “fundamental moral imperative” that participants
“allowed themselves to be moved.”64
Throughout its work, the CFI sought to help the industry iden-
tify and influence members of the public whose opinions and atti-
tudes about the food system were likely to change through the
encounter and/or who were likely to influence change among oth-
ers.65 The first trust report introduced the idea that “winning pub-
lic acceptance of a new product, process or system is more easily
achieved with the backing of a segment of the population known
as early adopters.” The report referred to the “Diffusion of Inno-

vation” model developed by Everett Rogers in the 1960s, which
showed that “early adopters” are opinion leaders and
drivers
of social change. It described early adopters as “more rational,
intelligent, and able to deal with uncertainty than others” and
also “information seekers” interested in “sources they view as
balanced and credible.” 66 The report primed food companies to
influence these drivers of public opinion with insights into how
they got information about food issues (increasingly from the
Web) and details about their Web use, such as how often they went
online, the devices they used to do so, and the topics they most
frequently researched when looking for food information. The
report also included a detailed look at what it called “Messages
That Matter,” that is, those messages “that had a statistically
significant impact on the attitudes of early adopters” in rela-
tion to nutrition, food safety, the humane treatment of animals,
and the responsible use of technology. The messages themselves
took the familiar form of establishing vague values-based foun-
dations before introducing science and economics, which I have
already discussed as enacting antipolitics in and of itself.67 The
point here is that antipolitics was also enacted by identifying
early adopters as the audience of choice for “messages that m
atter”
because of the likelihood of their opinions changing (in the desired
direction) and their ability to influence others toward mobility.
As the CFI developed increasingly refined approaches to delin-
eating relevant audiences, the virtue of mobility was increasingly
intertwined with projections of both cognitive and psychological
deficits. Audience segmentation and lines of influence between
different segments were a major focus of the organization’s 2016
and 2017 trust research. In 2016 “Inside the Minds of Influencers:
The Truth about Trust” moved on from the broad generalizations
of the movable middle and early adopter frameworks to offer a

more fine-tuned understanding of “the voices that impact the
decision of others as they make choices at the grocery store or
form opinions about the products, processes, people and brands
that define today’s food system.” Ultimately, the research iden-
tified one group, representing a third of the population, as the
prime target for engagement because of deficits that made them
particularly mobile. It described “Providers” as open to influence
because they “never feel quite good enough,” and “when a food
issue is placed before them they feel anxious that they don’t have
the information or trusted sources they need to decide what is
right and wrong.” This made them vulnerable to the influence of
“Peak Performers,” who seemed to be influencing Providers in a
way that the CFI wanted to interrupt.68
The report described the influence of Peak Performers on Pro-
viders as the reason “more Americans are flocking toward var-
ious attributes of food they consider evolved and that signify
progress” such as less processed food, clean labels, and GMO-free
claims. The opportunity the report focused on was for the indus-
try to step in to offer Providers the guidance they needed, thus
coming between them and Peak Performers. The projection of
deficits as an opportunity to move people toward desired ends
was frank and explicitly gendered. “Pam the Provider” is shown
standing in a grocery store reading a cereal box with a thought
bubble over her head that contains nothing but a question mark.
In the same image, “Paul the Peak Performer” stands beside Pam,
taking advantage of the mobility created by her deficits of knowl-
edge and confidence with the simple question, “Do you have any
idea how processed foods impact your performance?” Pam was
also described as pressured to stay away from processed food in
her Facebook feed and at soccer games. This left her full of angst,
because in trying to feed her family convenient heathy meals on

a budget she often used foods that “aren’t considered p
articularly
‘clean’ by the influencers whispering in her ear.” The report
urged its audience to take advantage of Pam’s mobility themselves
rather than allow others to do so, suggesting that companies use
the CFI’s communication strategies to “support and empower her;
provide balanced information; instill confidence about the value
of processed food; earn trust.”69
The CFI’s focus on segmenting consumers to better understand
and target lines of influence between them took a fascinating turn
in 2017, with a report called “Connecting with Consumers in a
Post-Truth Tribal World: What Makes Food and Information Cred-
ible,” which divided the public along a continuum of relationships
to “the Truth.” The premise itself rejected the Real Facts frame’s
insistence on a singular science-driven Truth and, therefore, its
inability to understand skeptical publics as anything but misin-
formed or antiscience. The central contention was that how peo-
ple assessed the credibility of information about food was shaped
by where they stood on a “belief spectrum” between “rational sci-
entific objectivity” and “values-based subjectivity.” While on one
end truth was grounded in evidence-based science, on the other
people’s “assessment of news credibility and information is not
as much about its scientific validity, than it is about the emotional
resonance it has and the extent to which it ‘gels’ with their other
deeply held desires and beliefs.”70
The research identified five “archetypes” along the belief spec-
trum, each representing a set of shared beliefs in the context of
credibility, and then mapped the lines of influence among them.
Following the CFI’s critique of Real Facts, the report found that
“Scientifics,” located on the farthest “rational” end of the spec-
trum, might be “technical information pioneers,” but they had
very little influence because they were too “dogmatic,” lacked

clarity, and were unable to simplify conversations to make
them relatable. Far more influential was the next group, whose
approach to credibility mirrored the CFI’s: “Philosophers” learned
about research from “Scientifics” but integrated it with ethics and
morality to convey “a story that relies on scientific evidence, but
is communicated through an ethical and moral lens.” The tar-
get audience for engagement was once again identified based on
mobility as both a virtue and a feature of deficits that made par-
ticular consumers vulnerable to influence. The report deemed 52
percent of the population to have opinions too entrenched and
extreme and/or to have too little influence over the mobility of
others to be viable for “engagement.” This included “Scientifics”
who overcomplicate, “Wishful Thinkers” who “spiritualize” and
“over-exaggerate,” and “Existentials” who were too “politically
charged in their discussions about food.” The central opportu-
nity was to target the 39 percent of the population who were “Fol-
lowers” and the “Philosophers” (9 percent of the population) who
influenced them.71
Followers were the prime target for engagement because
they were both mobile, because of deficits that made them “vul-
nerable,” and influential. Located in the middle of the objective/
subjective truth spectrum, Followers were described as less sci-
entifically literate, overwhelmed by the amount and complexity
of scientific information, anxious about “doing the wrong thing,”
and looking for “reassurances.” The report identified them as both
“the largest cohort that is malleable” and as well positioned to
influence others, particularly those segments closer to the subjec-
tive end of the truth spectrum. Each archetype was richly devel-
oped, with sections explaining what food news symbolized to
them, their demographics, what motivated them, how they acted
on their beliefs, and what type of information they preferred.

When explicitly discussing how to influence them, the focus was
on understanding “triggering vulnerabilities” that might lead
them to change their beliefs.72
The report explained that Followers’ perspectives on both
sugar and omega-3’s had recently changed, and in both cases
communication leading up to the changes followed the same
formula. Experts removed ambiguity and repackaged the science
simply, attached simple recommendations to the information,
and addressed “a specific vulnerability”: wanting to be a good
parent. The three-step formula they recommended for “evolving
the beliefs of Followers” was, therefore, to communicate through
trusted experts, deliver unambiguous information and simple
solutions, and address a specific vulnerability of the F
ollower. The
report explained that these vulnerabilities stemmed from the fact
that “Followers fear they will miss something or do the wrong
thing, thus jeopardizing the health of their families or them-
selves.” The simple version of the communication formula was,
“trusted expert + relevant info + addresses vulnerability.”73
This approach to delineating relevant audiences based on
their propensity for mobility made it clear that while the CFI
promoted a broad emphasis on engagement through shared val-
ues and transparency, the kind of conversations worth having
were the ones in which the public participants—not the industry
communicators—were likely to be moved. Members of the public
holding strong opinions and unlikely to be moved were defined as
outside of “engagement,” while the most important targets were
those who were seen as the least knowledgeable, informed, and
confident in their opinions or concerns about the food system.
There was little interest in conversations that enacted politics
by producing disagreement over values, or conflict over the
direction of the food system, or even in which the result was a

public unmoved.
Despite—and alongside—its efforts to overhaul the approach

the food industry typically took to communicating with the
public, the Center for Food Integrity’s work reproduced many of
the foundational assumptions and limitations of the Real Facts
frame. The central paradox of the CFI’s approach to building
trust with consumers through transparency was that, much as
Friedberg discovered in the supply chain, it maintained a veil
of secrecy around the power dynamics that produced transpar-
ency itself.74 Connecting through shared values and practicing
the seven elements of transparency left embedded assumptions
about the aims and purpose of the food system unexamined
and assumed that public concerns about the food system were
narrowly focused on impacts rather than the power dynamics
that determined what questions mattered and which forms of
expertise were relevant. The CFI’s critique of deficit-driven com-
munication produced new forms of communication and even
engagement between the food industry and the public but at
the same time remained shaped by deficit thinking. It projected
a view of the public not only lacking information and under-
standing but also compromised by social and psychological hin-
drances to rational, science-informed decision making, not to
mention plagued by insecurity. While the CFI taught corporate
actors that their motivations, practices, and behaviors all mat-
tered for building trust, it also located the emergence and per-
sistence of lack of trust in the minds and social contexts of the
consumer rather than the actions, inaction, and assumptions of
industry actors. In other words, the Center for Food Integrity pro-
duced an antipolitics of transparency.
Conclusion
Future Food Imaginaries of the Public
If the Center for Food Integrity delivered more of the same “anti-
politics machine” even as it pushed the food industry to commu-
nicate with the public in new ways, what about the people who
set out to radically disrupt and transform the food system itself?
Did innovators and entrepreneurs promising to revolutionize
the food system with novel technologies and Silicon Valley–style
approaches to business also rethink how to communicate with
the public about the food system? How did they imagine the pub-
lic and understand the role of communication? To explore these
questions, let us look briefly into the most vibrant arena of the
food tech sector, alternative protein innovation, and focus on
one of the most headline-grabbing, hype-generating, and invest-
ment-attracting companies in this space: Impossible Foods.1
“Building the Food System of the Future Through Next Gen-
eration Products,” one of many sessions at the two-day Future
Food Tech Summit held in San Francisco in 2019, began with
the moderator addressing the founder and CEO of Impossible
Foods, a company that aimed to “disrupt” animal agriculture
by making “raw meat” from plants: “You’ve made something
180
Conclusion / 181
exactly the same out of something not exactly the same—not a

theory of change, but a change of theory.” Prompted to explain
how he came to this breakthrough, Pat Brown, who had been
a professor of biochemistry at Stanford, said that he asked
himself what the most important problem in the world was
that he could contribute to solving by means of basic biomed-
ical research. He decided that “by a huge margin the biggest
threat we face and maybe have ever faced is the catastrophic
use of animals in the food system,” but there was no way peo-
ple were going to change their diets. After all, he noted, steak
was served at the Paris climate meetings, and nothing changed
after China asked its population to cut back on meat consump-
tion. So Brown set out to deliver the meat people wanted “with-
out the carcass” by replacing “the old technology” (animals)
with something new. The discussion, which included four other
panelists, eventually turned to regulatory processes, and Brown
reflected on how his company was navigating its use of “heme,” a
genetically engineered protein credited with making the plant-
based burgers look, taste, smell, and even “bleed” like meat. In
addition to working closely with the FDA to go through a full
review process rather than claiming GRAS status for heme,
Brown explained that the company made a point of telling
the public they use engineered yeast to make the product,
because “transparency is the magic ingredient to winning the
confidence of the public.”
About a year later, during a webinar called “Using Microbial
Technologies to Revolutionize Our Food System,” also put on by
Future Food Tech, then vice president for research and develop-
ment at Impossible Foods, Ranjani Varadan, both discussed and
demonstrated the company’s approach to transparency, which
involved simplified explanations of how heme was made empha-
sizing its naturalness, familiarity, and safety, as well as the
182 / Conclusion
Figure 14. Ingredients of Impossible Beef made familiar and natural; heme is
represented by a soy plant with dirt still clinging to the roots. Source: Impossible
Foods, https://impossiblefoods.com/nz-en/products/beef/340g-pack.
company’s commitment to the public good. For example, one slide

showed an image of the roots of a soy plant as found in nature
alongside text explaining, “Heme is a ubiquitous ingredient in
nature. Plants have heme, too[,] . . . but extracting lehemoglo-
bin from root nodules at scale is not sustainable.” Another slide
showed all the ingredients of an Impossible Burger as if laid out
in a home kitchen, each labeled using familiar words linking it
to a natural source, for example, soy protein as a soybean pod,
coconut oil as a coconut, and heme as a soy plant root with dirt
still clinging to it (Fig. 14). During the discussion Varadan fielded
a question about how her company was responding to the grow-
ing need for clean labels. She acknowledged that “consumers are
getting more and more savvy” and explained that Impossible’s
Conclusion / 183
approach was “to be transparent and educate the consumer about

what we use and how we use it,” noting, “people tend to be a little
scared if they don’t understand,” even though everything Impos-
sible uses is “safe and approved for food.”
The company’s approach to transparency was also on full
display on its website. The pages about heme explained that it
was an essential molecule found in every living plant and that
theirs was made “via fermentation of genetically engineered
yeast, and safety-verified by America’s top food-safety experts
and peer reviewed academic journals.”2 A short video called
Heme—the Magic Ingredient in the Impossible Burger used color-
ful animations set to soothing music to explain why the company
used genetic engineering to produce heme and how the process
worked. A female scientist explains, “Every decision that we
make is really driven by our values and our mission. We want to
feed the population in 2050. We want to do it in a way that does
not destroy the planet. All of the decisions that we’ve made have
been to produce a product that we can make in a way that is scal-
able and sustainable and safe, and that applies to heme.” Later,
as animations show a root being picked from the ground by hand,
another female scientist explains that while heme could come
from the root nodules of soy plants, the other option “would be
fermentation, which is a far more scalable and sustainable way
of making that protein” (Figs. 15 and 16). She notes that the pro-
cess is something people are familiar with because yeasts are also
used for making certain kinds of beers and wines. After some
footage of blue-gloved technicians in lab coats producing heme in
an industrial setting, the imagery returns to brightly colored car-
toon animations playfully depicting DNA, represented as a little
red squiggle, being pulled from a soy nodule with tweezers and
then inserted into “our yeasts” (Figs. 17 and 18).3
184 / Conclusion
Figures 15 and 16. Two stills from Heme—The Magic Ingredient in the Impossible
Burger as the narrator explains that heme (soy leghemoglobin) could come from
the root nodules of soybean plants. Source: Impossible Foods, https://impossible
foods.com/heme.
While Impossible Foods promised something entirely new

when it came to how meat was made, the company clearly adopted
a familiar approach to imagining and communicating with the
public. Impossible imagined a public that feared heme and
the technology behind it and whose objections needed to be
overcome so the public benefit could be delivered.4 Shaped by
food scientism, Impossible assumed not only that technolog-
ical innovation was the solution to the challenge of feeding a
Conclusion / 185
Figures 17 and 18. The narrator explains that Impossible produces heme
through fermentation instead, first taking DNA from the soy leghemoglobin
(figure 17) and then inserting it in “our yeasts” (figure 18). Source: Impossible
Foods, https://impossiblefoods.com/heme.
growing population on a warming planet but also that any pub-

lic skepticism of this technofix must be because of lack of sci-
entific understanding rather than legitimate concerns about
the aims and assumptions behind the innovation or its poten-
tial impacts beyond individual health and safety.5 The company
sought to assure the public that heme was natural, familiar, and
safe because it believed people’s concerns could only be the result
of misunderstandings, fear of the unfamiliar, or calculable risks
186 / Conclusion
to personal health. Also reflecting the kind of communication

strategies promoted by the CFI, Impossible sought to build trust
through shared values and transparency. Its communication was
upfront about heme being p
roduced through genetic engineering
but, instead of leading with science and expertise, foregrounded
the company’s commitment to sustainability while carefully
assuaging imagined fears with a version of transparency that,
paradoxically, did not include questions about the power dynam-
ics that produced either the technology or the transparency.6 The
goal of being transparent and educating the public about heme
was not to foster space for dialogue that might include disagree-
ment, or require innovators to reflect on or even change their
own assumptions about the trajectory of the food system. It was
to produce informed and willing consumers for Impossible prod-
ucts and maintain its “social license” to operate with minimal
“formalized restrictions.”7
Even as those involved in the agri-food tech sector promised
to radically disrupt and transform the food system, the Impossi-
ble example shows that the Real Facts frame lived on in the way
they imagined and communicated with the public. My research
on the broader Bay Area agri-food tech sector confirms that many
innovators, entrepreneurs, and investors advancing tech-driven
approaches to meeting “grand challenges” related to feeding a
growing population in the context of climate change imagined
a fearful public whose irrational concerns about the uses of tech-
nology in the food system had to be overcome, just like the food
industry “incumbents” whose businesses they aimed to disrupt.
Within the agri-food tech “ecosystem,” social, economic, and polit-
ical questions having to do with the future of food were insistently
re-posed as technical questions, amenable to technological
solutions.8 At the same time, questions about consumer a
cceptance
Conclusion / 187
of these edible technofixes were re-posed as communication chal-

lenges, amenable to the solution of transparency.9
The problems with agri-food tech imaginaries of the pub-
lic were the same as those explored throughout this book, only
set into more stark relief because of the radical transformations
promised, as well as the very real potential—and urgent need—
for the food system to be remade at this moment of reckoning.
Furthermore, expert perceptions and projections of the public
played an outsized role in the sector that, unlike the conventional
food system discussed in the rest of this book, was dependent
on private investment. Agri-food tech startups operated within
an intensely investor-dependent, entrepreneurial-driven polit-
ical economy. To secure essential support, they had to convince
investors and others in the sector that their innovations were rad-
ically disruptive and at the same time certain to be embraced by
the public, often before they even existed. Therefore, while inno-
vation processes took place outside of any engagement with the
public, imaginaries of the public as future consumers played
a critical role. As I have argued elsewhere, the concerns of the
public were first imagined (as deficit driven) and then handily
dispensed with as innovators assured investors that eager con-
sumers existed or that potentially reticent consumers would be
overcome by transparency. Those promising to radically trans-
form the food system through technological innovation showed
no interest in engaging the public in any form of meaningful
dialogue about their visions of desirable futures, assumptions
about the trajectory of the food system, or who might win and lose
should these visions come true.10
Imaginaries of the public and assumptions about the ideal
form of the relationship between science and society played an
important role not only in the way the agri-food tech sector has
188 / Conclusion
taken shape but also in its potential. Many scholars, including

me, have elaborated the limits of the disruptions both promised
and delivered by the sector, showing for example the narrow-
ness of how sustainability has been defined and calling for ques-
tions of power and justice to be centered rather than considered
outside the scope.11 Fewer have attended to how knowledge pol-
itics and projections of the public are inseparable from this.
Looking at both plant-based and cell-cultured animal prod-
uct alternatives (also referred to as cellular, cultivated, and lab
grown, among other names), Garrett Broad assesses the possibil-
ity for what he calls “food tech justice,” arguing that while it is
most likely that these alternatives will be incorporated as reforms
into existing corporate food regimes, the potential for meaningful
systemic change is worth pursuing. In his view food tech justice
would require that the production of alternative proteins benefit
animals, the environment, and human health and actively seek
to redress food system marginalization and inequities.12 But as
Broad and I argue elsewhere, a justice-oriented approach would
also have to move beyond simply “building trust” in products that
have already been developed. It would have to reckon with the
legitimate concerns of the public, including the power dynam-
ics shaping both innovation and communication with the public
about it.13
Throughout this book I have argued that the Real Food frame
should be seen as a practice of politics, an expression through
both words and deeds of a critical challenge to the food i ndustry
that was rooted in refusal of the way things were. Composed of a
loose collection of discourses and actions among activists, advo-
cates, and individual members of the public, the Real Food frame
appears—from a distance—as a refusal of processed food that
Conclusion / 189
expressed serious questions and concerns about the aims and

trajectory of the food system. Good food became “real” in a cul-
tural context that included higher social stakes around eating
right than ever before and an “eat less” approach to dietary advice
that focused on avoiding potentially harmful foods. A confluence
of concerns about obesity, sustainability, nutrition, and techno-
logical risk raised public awareness about the potential health
risks associated with processed food—such as weight gain and
harms from unregulated ingredients—while also raising broader
questions about the role of processed food in the American diet,
the impacts of the industrial food system, and the values of the
food industry. Implicit and explicit challenges to the food indus-
try’s relationship to science and scientific authority were central
to all these concerns—and to the various social and consumer
movements that arose to address them. Ultimately, what appears
in retrospect as the Real Food frame presented a critical challenge
to established understandings of good food, established ways of
knowing good food, and long-standing imaginaries of the public.
The Real Food frame reimagined the public not just as consumers
whose role was to accept the products of the food industry, but as
citizens who could shape the food system through their actions
both within and outside the marketplace.
I have also shown that, through the more immediate, defensive
lens of food industry experts, the refusals of the Real Food frame
were based in irrational and misinformed fears of unpronounce-
able ingredients, unfamiliar processes, and technologies that
were essential for delivering safe, abundant, and affordable food.
The loosely coordinated, dynamic, evolving approaches that food
industry actors took to responding to the critical challenges of the
Real Food frame were shaped by shared ideas about both science
and the public. These included an understanding that science was
190 / Conclusion
the most important way of knowing about food, or food scientism,

and a related assumption that negative perceptions of food
processing and other uses of technology could only be the result of
the public’s lack of scientific knowledge, or, in other words, a defi-
cit model of the public understanding of science. The responses
of food industry actors to the Real Food frame were also shaped
by the business imperative to ensure that processed foods con-
tinued to be purchased. The purpose of communication with the
public, therefore, was to overcome knowledge deficits and ensure
willing and eager consumers. Across all three domains explored
in the chapters of this book, actors representing the industry
sought to “correct” the concerns of the Real Food frame with the
right kind of information. Science lessons for schoolchildren
explained and celebrated the benefits of unfamiliar ingredients
and modern farming technologies, comments to the FDA resisted
the public’s unscientific ideas about what “natural” should mean,
and the organization leading a new approach to building trust
sought to connect through “shared values” only to arrive at the
same predetermined ends as traditional approaches.
The core commitment of this book has been to reveal the “side
effects” of these efforts to educate the public about processed
food and modern food production. One such effect has been the
entrenchment and expansion of scientific authority over ques-
tions about food and the food system, or food scientism. The cam-
paigns I have explored narrowly construed the issues at hand as
having to do only with risks to individual health and safety posed
by ingredients, technologies, and processes. Through classroom
science lessons and comments to the FDA, they entrenched food
scientism by narrowing the terrain of allowable questions to
those science could answer. They shored up authority with vague
references to science, such as Professor G. U. Eatwell and the
Conclusion / 191
mantra “science-based reason.” They evoked science as a source

of authority in ways that extended beyond scientific and technical
domains, asserting scientific authority over questions of meaning
and policy, such as what “natural” should mean.14
Another side effect of efforts to defend the food industry and
maintain interest in processed food was antipolitics. The food sci-
entism of the Real Facts frame was a form of antipolitics because
it reframed the politics of the Real Food frame as ignorance and
misunderstanding. Everything that followed from or was oth-
erwise interrelated with the fundamental assumption that
Real Food should and could be “corrected” by experts through
education and communication contributed to the “antipolitics
machine” I have sought to reveal. Time and time again the Real
Facts frame re-posed concerns about processed food and the food
system as problems of misunderstanding amenable to new and
better forms of education, outreach, or PR. It refused to entertain
the bigger question expressed by the Real Food frame—What
kind of food system do we want?—and instead sought to con-
vince the public not only that processed food was safe, healthy,
and even better than fresh but also that the big questions about
the food system and the uses of technology within it were best
left to experts. The food industry’s projection of the public as mis-
informed, irrationally fearful, and lacking an understanding of
food science justified not taking seriously the concerns activists,
advocates, and individuals raised in both words and deeds. It also
justified not taking seriously the role its own words and deeds
played in the public’s growing distaste for processed food and
distrust in the food industry.
Food scientism and the Real Facts “antipolitics machine” are
manifestations of broader patterns in the culture of scientific
institutions and science-society relations. Wynne has argued that
192 / Conclusion
the unacknowledged problem facing contemporary scientific

institutional culture is not the public’s failure to trust but “its per-
sistent routine externalization and projection onto others of its
own possible responsibility for public disaffection or disagree-
ment.”15 The public mistrust of science is, he argues, an effect of
scientific misunderstandings of the public, which are themselves
“provocative and alienating.”16 Scientific knowledge and scientific
institutions imagine and project the public in reflection of their
own unspoken needs. The deficit model of the public understand-
ing of science, in its many iterations, operates as what Wynne
calls a “repertoire of possible alibis which prevent an honest
institutional-scientific self-reflective questioning, in public; and
as an inadvertent alibi for the continued presumptive imposition
of scientific meanings on public issues.” He goes on: “This eva-
sion chronically undermines what could be v
igorous, mutually
educative and more humanly as well as technically intelligent
innovation and science.”17
How could we get there? According to Wynne, taking seriously
concerns that have been treated as misunderstandings and dis-
trust would require institutional and cultural change. It would
require debate both within and outside science over the “proper
ends and purposes of knowledge, and the proper conditions of dis-
tribution, ownership, and control of the capacity for and practice
of scientific knowledge production. It would also involve a socially
and ethically informed debate about the relations between sci-
entific knowledge and other legitimate forms of knowledge and
practice.”18 Rather than strategize about how to induce the pub-
lic to trust, scientific institutions would have to reflect on and
take responsibility for their own trustworthiness. This, Wynne
explains, would entail being “openly self-aware and questioning”
Conclusion / 193
of their own imaginations and assumptions about both science

and publics.19 What might this look like in the context of the food
system? What would happen if the food industry responded to the
critical challenges and refusals of the Real Food frame w
ithout
“reposing” political questions about the food system as technical
problems of misunderstanding, amenable to the solution of bet-
ter communication? What if resources currently being used to
diagnose and correct the deficiencies of the public were used
instead to question food scientism, rethink deficit-driven pro-
jections of the public, and reimagine the relationship between
science and publics?
The institutional and cultural changes that it would take to dis-
mantle the Real Facts antipolitics machine are difficult to imag-
ine, difficult to chart a path toward. At the same time, they are
already taking place. As Tanya Li notes, while “rendering con-
tentious issues technical is a routine practice for experts . . . this
operation should be seen as a project, not a secure accomplish-
ment. Questions that experts exclude, misrecognize, or attempt
to contain do not go away.”20 The Real Food frame and the Real
Facts frame produce each other through infinite points of fric-
tion, a tiny fraction of which I have isolated and described here.
The seeds of ongoing, emergent critical challenges lie in both the
Real Food frame and in the misdiagnoses, re-posed questions,
and alienating tactics of the Real Facts frame itself. While I have
argued that industry attempts to educate the public about pro-
cessed food and the benefits of modern food production produce
an “antipolitics machine” as a side effect, I have not shown that it
has made politics disappear. On the contrary, the Real Facts anti-
politics machine is an ongoing product of its own failure. The
critical challenges of the Real Food frame are both “squashed”
194 / Conclusion
by the Real Facts frame (to use Ferguson’s term) and exceed its
antipolitics machine, presenting an ongoing challenge to the food
industry and its scientific authority.21
My role as a critic has been to read a mundane set of con-
flicts in a new way, surfacing the significance of what appears to
members of the public as a problem with processed food and
to experts as a problem of public misunderstanding. Having
shown that the contest between Real Food and Real Facts is much
more than either of these things, I invite all of us to creatively
engage the central question—What kind of food system do we
want?—in a way that includes rather than evades questions of
power and knowledge. As my work demonstrates, the public is
not anti–food science, which opens new questions about what the
purpose of communication about food production is. There is no
such thing as communication between food industry and the pub-
lic that does not include and seek to operationalize ideas about
the role the public should play in the food system and how power
should operate. There are countless ways in which these assump-
tions about the ideal relationship between the public and the food
industry can be surfaced, scrutinized, and reimagined.
ACK NOW LEDGMENTS
This book marks a transition in my career, when I realized that

writing and thinking alone was no longer for me. While I take full
responsibility for the inevitable shortcomings, I am extremely
grateful to say that I wrote within and because of the support of
many communities, academic and otherwise.
The brilliant women of the UC AFTeR project—Kathryn De
Master, Madeleine Fairbairn, Julie Guthman, Zenia Kish, and
Emily Reisman—gave me direction, inspiration, and the most
exciting and generous intellectual community of my career. It
was everything I dreamed about when I decided to leave isola-
tion behind, and though we were focused on a different project
our collaboration was essential to the writing of this book. Julie
Guthman, PI on that project, has been my closest collaborator, a
trusted mentor, and a good friend throughout the years I have
been working on this book. She was the primary reader for the
manuscript from its earliest days to the very end, bringing her
renowned intellect to every page and doing wonders for my confi-
dence when I needed it.
195
196 / Acknowledgments
One of the best things the AFTeR project did was team up with
other scholars working at the intersection of agri-food studies and
STS to create the STS Food and Agriculture Network (STSFAN). I
am grateful to Julie Guthman and Mascha Gugganig for keeping
the network running, to everyone who has participated in our
monthly works-in-progress workshops, and especially to those
who generously read and discussed a draft of chapter 4. As a new-
comer to STS, I went into that workshop very uncertain and came
out knowing I would publish this book.
All along the way I have had the unwavering support of a small
group of strangers put together by the National Center for Fac-
ulty Diversity and Development in 2016 when we all signed up
for bootcamp as new, female associate professors. Meeting every
other week on the phone for all these years, Nancy Baker, Carl-
ita Favero, Jennifer Najera, and I have held each other up and
seen each other through so very much. I remain in awe of what
we have built and sustained and cannot imagine getting to this
moment without our sweet community of deep, mutual care.
I explored and developed ideas for this book through many
conversations with friends, colleagues, and strangers. I want to
thank the food scientists and industry professionals who made
time for both formal and informal interviews that helped me to
deepen and sharpen my thinking: Jennifer Armen, Jaqueline
Beckley, Christine Bruhn, Kara Nielsen, Nitin Nitin, Ameer Taha,
Carl Winter, and Rachel Zemser. Sally Aaron was a key thought
partner around the question of transparency.
I received useful feedback from audiences at meetings of the
Association for the Study of Food and Society (ASFS) and the Soci-
ety for Social Studies of Science (4S). Invited talks at the reThink-
Food conference put together by the Culinary Institute and the
MIT Media Lab; the University of Manchester’s Sustainable
Acknowledgments / 197
Consumption Institute (in conjunction with Gastronomica); an

international workshop on consumer, food, and health at Erfurt
University; the Mills College Contemporary Writer’s Series; and
the Humanities on the Edge Series at the University of Lincoln
were particularly generative. Sincere thanks to the organizers
and interlocutors of those events. Meaghan O’Keefe was one of
the first people I talked through these ideas with after we ran-
domly met when teaching in the same classroom and became fast
friends. Rafi Grosglik created wonderful opportunities for dia-
logue on food studies as a visiting professor at UC Davis, includ-
ing the symposium “Natural Food Politics” where I presented the
work in chapter 3. Alice Julier, my food studies bestie, read a very
early chapter draft and helped me find my way—as she always
has. Carolyn Thomas talked me through the early years of feel-
ing very lost in this project and I am profoundly grateful for her
ongoing friendship.
At UC Davis I am lucky to have many smart, kind colleagues
and friends who made it possible for me to do this work. Thank
you to the faculty in American Studies and Food Science and
Technology who have supported me and to the staff who make
everything possible. Kimberly Nettles-Barcelon and Christina
Cogdell make life at UC Davis so much better. Student research
assistants Brennan Baraban, Stephanie Maroney, Marcella Salim,
Samantha Snively, and Alana Stein and all made meaningful

contributions through their paid labor, skills, and insights. I had
help with the computational methods used in chapter 3 from Carl
Stahmer at the UC Davis Data Science Initiative, along with stu-
dents Andoni Sooklaris and Ranjodh Singh Dhaliwal. I received
financial support from the UC Davis Office of Research Small
Grants and Travel Grants program, the College of Letters and
Sciences Deans Office, and the Department of American Studies.
198 / Acknowledgments
Additional financial support (for the UC AFTeR project research

that informs the conclusion) came from the National Science
Foundation (grant #1749184).
Three readers for UC Press provided generous, insightful com-
ments that helped me see what needed to be done in the final
stages. One of those reviewers, who revealed his identity, made
a particular impact: Saul Halfron schooled me in the art of an
excellent manuscript review, providing comments that subtly
but profoundly reshaped the book by helping me more clearly
understand my own ideas. My editor at UC Press, Kate Marshall,
got it from the beginning and gave me extremely effective feed-
back and steady guidance all along the way, with essential help
from Chad Attenborough in managing the details. Lissa Caldwell,
a treasured friend and colleague, provided an early speaking
opportunity, published the very first piece of this work as editor
of Gastronomica, and later read the full manuscript, providing
timely encouragement and helpful comments on behalf of the UC
Press Editorial Board.
I could not have produced this book without the people
and communities outside of academia who have held me up and
held me together during the many years of writing. I am deeply
grateful for my dharma friends at Sunday Sangha, our teacher,
Will Kabat-Zinn, and my beloved mini sangha; meeting online
weekly since the very first days of the pandemic, we have truly
become each other’s teachers. I have never felt as joyous and free
as I do at the Dance Floor. To Giti Morris, all the teachers, and
the incredible community of dancers who light that place up,
thank you for sustaining my body, heart, and soul. Thank you to
my beloved friends for being you and helping me to be me. Spe-
cial thanks to the Ambivalent Mamas and the Superfamily for
Acknowledgments / 199
making the everyday both manageable and glorious, and to my

friends from way back for knowing who I am all the way down.
My parents and my sister—Cecile, Steven, and Stacia
Biltekoff—are so proud of me that it makes me blush and fills me
with gratitude for all the ways they have made my life and my
work possible. Ruven and Saskia, now twelve and seventeen, have
gone from really little to really big alongside this project. I can’t
believe how smart, creative, and funny they are and how much
energy and optimism I get from raising them. Shawn Freedberg
somehow manages to give me all the love, space, and support I
need to thrive amid a challenging career and the ever-evolving
handful that is parenting. This one is for you, my love, with grat-
itude for the joy, perspective, balance, and fullness you bring to
our life.
NOTES
INTRODUCTION
1. International Food Information Council, “About IFIC,” https://

ific.org/about-ific/; David Schmidt, “Consumer Opinions about
Processed Foods, and How the Food Industry Can Improve Commu-
nication with Customers,” paper presented at the Food Processing
Expo 2014, Sacramento, CA, February 20, 2014.
2. Schmidt, “Consumer Opinions about Processed Foods.”
3. International Food Information Council Foundation, “Under-
standing Our Food Communications Tool Kit: Leader Guide,” 2010,
https://foodinsight.org/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/IFIC_Leader
_Guide_high_res.pdf.
4. International Food Information Council, “Food Biotechnol-
ogy: A Communicator’s Guide to Improving Understanding,” 3rd
ed., 2013, https://foodinsight.org/food-biotechnology-a-communica
tors-guide-to-improving-understanding/.
5. Food Insight, “Editor’s Note: Three Decades of Facts . . . and
Three Years of FACTS,” https://foodinsight.org/editors-note-three
-decades-of-facts-and-three-years-of-facts/.
6. Food Insight, “War on ‘Food’ Science Series Highlights
Commonly Miscommunicated Food Safety & Nutrition Topics,”
201
202 / Notes to Introduction
https://foodinsight.org/war-on-food-science-series-highlights
-commonly-miscommunicated-food-safety-nutrition-topics/.
7. Gwendolyn Blue, “Food, Publics, Science,” Public Understand-
ing of Science 19, no. 2 (2010): 147–54; Philip Lowe, Jeremy Phillipson,
and Richard P. Lee, “Socio-Technical Innovation for Sustainable
Food Chains: Roles for Social Science,” Trends in Food Science &
Technology 19, no. 5 (2008): 226–33.
8. Lowe, Phillipson, and Lee, “Socio-Technical Innovation,”
227, 29.
9. See e.g., Marion Nestle, Unsavory Truth: How Food Companies
Skew the Science of What We Eat (New York: Basic Books, 2018); D. A.
Zaltz, L. E. Bisi, G. Ruskin, et al., “How Independent Is the Interna-
tional Food Information Council from the Food and Beverage Indus-
try? A Content Analysis of Internal Industry Documents,” Global
Health 18, no. 91 (2022), https://doi.org.10.1186s12992-022-00884-8;
Erin Trauth, “Nutritional Noise: Community Literacies and the
Movement against Foods Labeled as ‘Natural’,” Community Lit-
eracy Journal 10, no. 1 (Autumn 2015): 4–20; S. Steele, L. Sarcevic,
G. Ruskin, and D. Strucker, “Confronting Potential Food Industry
‘Front Groups’: Case Study of the International Food Information
Council’s Nutrition Communications Using the UCSF Food Indus-
try Documents Archive,” Globalization and Health 18, no. 16 (2022),
https://doi.org/10.1186/s12992-022-00806-8.
10. See, e.g., Kelly D. Brownell and Katherine Battle Horgen, Food
Fight: The Inside Story of the Food Industry, America’s Obesity Crisis,
and What We Can Do about It (New York: McGraw-Hill, 2004); Mar-
ion Nestle, Food Politics: How the Food Industry Influences Nutrition
and Health (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002); Michael
Moss, Salt Sugar Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us (New York:
Random House, 2013).
11. See, e.g., Michael Pollan, The Omnivore’s Dilemma: A Natural
History of Four Meals (New York: Penguin Press, 2006); In Defense of
Food: An Eater’s Manifesto (New York: Penguin Press, 2008).
12. See, e.g., Marie-Monique Robin, Our Daily Poison: From Pes-
ticides to Packaging, How Chemicals Have Contaminated the Food
Chain and Are Making Us Sick (New York: New Press, 2014).
Notes to Introduction / 203
13. My understanding and approach to frames and framing con-

tests is informed by Abigail Saguy’s work on framing contests over
obesity. See, e.g., Abigail C. Saguy, What’s Wrong with Fat? (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2012); Abigail C. Saguy and Kevin W.
Riley, “Weighing Both Sides: Morality, Mortality, and Framing Con-
tests over Obesity,” Journal of Health Politics, Policy and Law 30, no.
5 (2005): 869–921.
14. Rachel Schurman and William Munro, Fighting for the
Future of Food: Activists versus Agribusiness in the Struggle over Bio-
technology (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 2010), xvii.
15. Ibid., 17–19.
16. Ibid., 189.
17. Ibid., chap. 3.
18. Tim Lang and Michael Heasman, Food Wars: The Global Bat-
tle for Mouths, Minds and Markets (London: Routledge, 2015), 24.
19. Ibid., chap. 2.
20. STS scholars also argue that contests appearing to be about
knowledge, or epistemology, are really about different meanings,
cultural worlds, and social and political commitments. See, e.g.,
Brian Wynne, “Public Engagement as a Means of Restoring Pub-
lic Trust in Science—Hitting the Notes, but Missing the Music?,”
Community Genetics 9, no. 3 (2006): 216. Sheila Jasanoff, “Order-
ing Knowledge, Ordering Society,” in States of Knowledge: The
Co-Production of Science and the Social Order (London: Routledge,
2004), 45. While the concept of frames is used here to highlight that
Real Food and Real Facts are different ways of seeing the same thing
(i.e., the problem of processed food), I also note that these two are
not seeing the same thing at all but ontologically different things
called “food” and “health.” This argument is elaborated in chap. 3.
21. Joan Dye Gussow, “The Science and Politics of Nutrition Edu-
cation,” Journal of Nutrition Education 12, no. 3 (1980): 140–43; quote
on 42.
22. Ibid., 140–42; quotes on 141.
23. In doing so, I am both inspired and informed by Leach and
Fairhead’s Vaccine Anxieties. Here I am borrowing and paraphras-
ing one of the questions that drives their analysis. Melissa Leach
and James Fairhead, Vaccine Anxieties: Global Science, Child Health

and Society (London: Earthscan, 2007), 4.
24. Claire Marris, “The Construction of Imaginaries of the Pub-
lic as a Threat to Synthetic Biology,” Science as Culture 24, no. 1
(2015): 83–98; Geoffrey Evans and John Duran, “The Relationship
between Knowledge and Attitudes in the Public Understanding of
Science in Britain,” Public Understanding of Science 4, no. 1 (1995):
57–74; Wynne, “Public Engagement.”
25. Wynne, “Public Engagement,” 212; Brian Wynne, “Misun-
derstood Misunderstandings: Social Identities and Public Uptake
of Science,” Public Understanding of Science 1, no. 3 (1992): 281–304.
26. Wynne, “Public Engagement”; Ian Welsh and Brian Wynne,
“Science, Scientism and Imaginaries of Publics in the UK: Passive
Objects, Incipient Threats,” Science as Culture 22, no. 4 (2013): 540–
66; Marris, “Construction of Imaginaries”; Leach and Fairhead, Vac-
cine Anxieties.
27. Marris, “Construction of Imaginaries,” 83.
28. Aya Hirata Kimura, Radiation Brain Moms and Citizen Sci-
entists: The Gender Politics of Food Contamination after Fukushima
(Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2016); Christopher Mayes,
Claire Hooker, and Ian Kerridge, “Bioethics and Epistemic Sci-
entism,” Journal of Bioethical Inquiry 12, no. 4 (2015): 565–67; Leach
and Fairhead, Vaccine Anxieties; Welsh and Wynne, “Science, Sci-
entism and Imaginaries.”
29. Welsh and Wynne, “Science, Scientism and Imaginaries,”
542.
30. Brian Wynne, “Risky Delusions: Misunderstanding Science
and Misperforming Publics in the GE Crop Issue,” in Genetically
Engineered Crops: Interim Policies, Uncertain Legislation, ed. Iain
E. P. Taylor (New York: Routledge, 2007), 341–66. See also Kinchy’s
overview of this phenomenon in chapter 2, Abby Kinchy, Seeds,
Science, and Struggle: The Global Politics of Transgenic Crops (Cam-
bridge, MA: MIT Press, 2012); and Jasanoff’s detailed analysis in
Sheila Jasanoff, The Fifth Branch: Science Advisors as Policymakers
(Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1990).

542.
32. Wynne, “Public Engagement,” quote on p. 214.
33. Ibid., 212.
34. Ibid., 214.
35. James Ferguson, The Anti-Politics Machine: Development,
Depoliticization, and Beauracratic Power in Lesotho (Minneapolis:
University of Minnesota Press, 1994), 171, 74.
36. Also known as solutionism. See Evgeny Morozov, To Save
Everything Click Here: The Folly of Technological Solutionism (Phil-
adelphia: Public Affairs Press, 2013). For more on solutionism in
the food system, see Charlotte Biltekoff and Julie Guthman, “Con-
scious, Complacent, Fearful: Agri-Food Tech’s Market-Making Pub-
lic Imaginaries,” Science as Culture 32, no. 1 (2022): 58–82; and Julie
Guthman, The Problem with Solutions: Why Silicon Valley Can’t Hack
the Future of Food (Oakland: University of C
alifornia Press, 2024).
37. Tania Murray Li, The Will to Improve: Governmentality, Devel-
opment, and the Practice of Politics (Durham, NC: Duke University
Press, 2007), 12.
38. Ibid., 7.
39. Regula Valérie Burri, “Imaginaries of Science and Society:
Framing Nanotechnology Governance in Germany and the United
States,” in Dreamscapes of Modernity: Sociotechnical Imaginaries
and the Fabrication of Power, ed. Sheila Jasanoff and Sang-Hyun Kim
(Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2015), 233–53.
40. Melissa Leach, Ian Scoones, and Brian Wynne, “Introduc-
tion: Science, Citizenship and Globalization,” in Science and Citi-
zens: Globalization and the Challenge of Engagement, ed. Melissa
Leach, Ian Scoones, and Brian Wynne (London: Zed Books, 2005),
66; Wynne, “Public Engagement,” 218.
41. Marris, “Construction of Imaginaries,” 84. Marris borrowed
the construction from Rip’s “nanophobia-phobia”: A. Rip, “Folk
Theories of Nanotechnologies,” Science as Culture 15, no. 4 (2006):
349–65.
42. Marris, “Construction of Imaginaries,” 85.
43. Wynne, “Public Engagement,” 214.

44. Leach, Scoones, and Wynne, “Science and Citizens,” 10.
45. Kinchy, Seeds, Science, and Struggle, 2, 30–31, 164.
46. Kimura, Radiation Brain Moms, 11.
47. Ibid., 13–14.
48. Anna Zeide, Canned: The Rise and Fall of the Consumer Confi-
dence in the American Food Industry (Oakland: University of Califor-
nia Press, 2018), 12.
49. Ibid., 166–68.
50. Sarah N. Heiss, “‘Healthy’ Discussions about Risk: The Corn
Refiners Association’s Strategic Negotiation of Authority in the
Debate over High Fructose Corn Syrup,” Public Understanding of Sci-
ence 22, no. 2 (2013): 220.
51. Ibid., 223.
52. Ibid., 224.
53. Ibid., 223.
54. Ibid.
55. Michele Simon, “Best Public Relations Money Can Buy—a
Guide to Food Industry Front Groups,” Center for Food Safety, 2013, 4,
https://www.centerforfoodsafety.org/reports/2210/best-public-rela
tions-that-money-can-buy-a-guide-to-food-industry-front-groups.
56. Ibid., 5.
57. Ibid.
58. There is a growing body of work that tells fascinating and
important stories about the history of processes, ingredients,
and innovations such as artificial coloring, canning, and MSG—not
to mention genetic engineering. See, e.g., Nadia Berenstein, “Flavor
Added: The Sciences of Flavor and the Industrialization of Taste in
America” (PhD diss., University of Pennsylvania, 2018); Sarah E.
Tracy, “Delicious: A History of Monosodium Glutamate and Umami,
the Fifth Taste Sensation” (PhD diss., University of Toronto, 2016);
Carolyn Cobbold, A Rainbow Palate: How Chemical Dyes Changed
the West’s Relationship with Food (Chicago: University of Chicago
Press, 2020); Amy Bentley, Inventing Baby Food: Taste, Health, and
the Industrialization of the American Diet (Oakland: University of
California Press, 2014).
Scholars have also written extensively about food industry

efforts to shape or influence the scientific process, such as by fund-
ing favorable nutritional or toxicological studies. See, e.g., Nestle,
Unsavory Truth; Norah Mackendrick, Better Safe Than Sorry: How
Consumers Navigate Exposure to Everyday Toxics (Oakland: Uni-
versity of California Press, 2018). Historians have also shown that
science has long been used by the food industry to win consumer
trust. See, e.g., Zeide, Canned; Jonathan Rees, The Chemistry of Fear:
Harvey Wiley’s Fight for Pure Food (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Uni-
versity Press, 2021). Among those observing how science is also
taken up by critics and activists, Mackendrick looks at the use of
biomonitoring by environmental activists (Mackendrick, Better
Safe Than Sorry), and Julie Guthman discusses the role of science
and scientific research in movements for sustainable agriculture:
Julie Guthman, Agrarian Dreams: The Paradox of Organic Farming
in California (Oakland: University of California Press, 2004).
Abby Kinchy looks at how, even as they were being demonized as
irrational science deniers, anti-biotech activists drew on dominant
discourses of scientific risk assessment to express their opposition,
incorporating science into their tactics by “using counter experts,
publicizing suppressed studies, and carrying out their own partici-
patory research” (Kinchy, Seeds, Science, and Struggle, 15).
59. Here I draw on Leach and Fairhead, Vaccine Anxieties.
60. Zaltz et al., “How Independent Is the International Food
Information Council?”
61. International Food Information Council, “Membership,”
https://ific.org/work-with-us/our-membership/.
62. Zaltz et al., “How Independent Is the International Food
Information Council?”
63. Los Angeles Times, Newsweek, New York Times, The Atlantic,
Economist, Time, Wall Street Journal, Washington Post.
64. https://www.putmanmedia.com/brands/food-processing/.
For an interesting analysis of food industry business-to-business
publications, see David Schleifer and Michaela DeSoucey, “What
Your Consumer Wants,” Journal of Cultural Economy (2013): 1–17.
65. CFI website, https://www.foodintegrity.org/.
66. Garrett M. Broad and Charlotte Biltekoff, “Food System Inno-

vations, Science Communication, and Deficit Model 2.0: Implica-
tions for Cellular Agriculture,” Environmental Communication 17, no
8 (2023): 868–74.
67. The CFI publishes a list of members on its website (https://
foodintegrity.org/members/cfi-members/). The list cited here is from
a July 2020 download of membership materials, which included a
2017 membership list marked as last updated February 9, 2018.
68. Center for Food Integrity, “Costco’s Wilson Elected President
of the Center for Food Integrity Board,” news release, July 18, 2019;
“CFI Welcomes New Leaders and Broad Perspectives on 2018–2019
Board,” news release, August 15, 2018; “CFI Welcomes New Leaders
and Broad Perspectives on 2016–2017 Board,” news release, 2016.
69. Center for Food Integrity, “A Clear View of Transparency and
How It Builds Consumer Trust,” Consumer Trust Research (2015).
70. Examples of articles by CFI authors: Charlie Arnot, “Build-
ing Consumer Trust in the Food System,” Food Technology 65, no. 6
(2011): 132–32; Stephen G. Sapp, Peter F. Korsching, Charlie Arnot,
and Jannette J. H. Wilson, “Science Communication and the Ratio-
nality of Public Opinion Formation,” Science Communication 35, no.
6 (2013): 734–57; Stephen G. Sapp, Charlie Arnot, James Fallon, Terry
Fleck, David Soorholtz, Matt Sutton-Vermeulen, and Jannette J. H.
Wilson, “Consumer Trust in the U.S. Food System: An Examination
of the Recreancy Theorem,” Rural Sociology 74, no. 4 (2009): 525–45.
Examples of articles citing CFI: Kelly Hensel, “Total Transpar-
ency,” Food Technology 71, no. 3 (2017): 20–29; Fawn Kurtzo, Maggie
Jo Hansen, K. Jill Rucker, and Leslie D. Edgar, “Agricultural Commu-
nications: Perspectives from the Experts,” Journal of Applied Com-
munications 100, no. 1 (2016): 17–28; Beth Jorgensen, “To Meat or Not
to Meat? An Analysis of On-Line Vegetarian Persuasive Rhetoric,”
Forum on the Rhetoric of Food 11, no. 1 (2015): 1–19.
71. National Science Foundation Award #1749184. Julie Guth-
man was the principal investigator (PI) for this project. In addition
to me, the other co-PIs were Madeleine Fairbairn and Kathryn De
Master.
72. Schurman and Munro, Fighting; Claire Marris, “Public
Views on GMOs: Deconstructing the Myths,” European Molecular
Notes to Chapter One / 209
Biology Reports 2, no. 7 (2001): 545–48; Brian Wynne, “Creating Pub-

lic Alienation: Expert Cultures of Risk and Ethics on GMOs,” Science
as Culture 10, no. 4 (2001): 445–81; Heidi Zimmerman and Aaron
Eddens, “Governing the Liberal Self in a ‘Post-Truth’ Era: Science,
Class and the Debate over GMOs,” Cultural Studies 32, no.6, (2018):
953–74.
73. See Leach and Fairhead, Vaccine Anxieties; Amit Prasad,
“Anti-Science Misinformation and Conspiracies: COVID-19, Post-
Truth, and Science & Technology Studies (STS),” Science, Technology
& Society 27, no. 1 (2022): 88–112.
74. Rachel Ankeny, “Science in an Age of Scepticism: Coping
with a New Age of Controversy,” Griffith Review (2020), https://www
.griffithreview.com/articles/science-in-an-age-of-scepticism/. See
also Alissa Overend, Shifting Food Facts: Dietary Discourse in a Post-
Truth Culture (London: Routledge, 2021).
CH A P T ER ONE . HOW GOOD

F O O D B E C A M E “ R E A L”
1. James Kennedy, “Ingredients of an All Natural Banana,”

December 12, 2013, https://jameskennedymonash.wordpress.com
/2013/12/12/ingredients-of-an-all-natural-banana/.
2. James Kennedy, “All-Natural Banana Has Gone Viral: 2m
Views,” https://jameskennedymonash.wordpress.com/2014/01/29
/the-all-natural-banana-has-gone-viral/.
3. James Kennedy, Fighting Chemophobia: The Story of How We
Became Afraid of Chemicals and What to Do about It (North Charles-
ton, SC: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform, 2018), back
matter.
4. Julia Belluz, “Why the ‘Food Babe’ Enrages Scientists,” Vox,
April 7, 2015, https://www.vox.com/2015/4/7/8360935/food-babe.
5. https://scibabe.com/about-scibabe/; Yvette d’Entremont, “The
‘Food Babe’ Blogger Is Full of Shit,” Gawker, April 16, 2015, http://
gawker.com/the-food-babe-blogger-is-full-of-shit-1694902226.
6. Leach and Fairhead, Vaccine Anxieties, 4.
7. Charlotte Biltekoff, Eating Right in America: The Cultural Poli-
tics of Food and Health (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2013).
210 / Notes to Chapter One
8. For more specifically regarding food, see Chad Lavin, Eat-

ing Anxiety: The Perils of Food Politics (Minneapolis: University of
Minnesota Press, 2013), esp. chap. 4; Julie Guthman, Weighing In:
Obesity, Food Justice, and the Limits of Capitalism (Berkeley: Univer-
sity of California Press, 2011), esp. chap. 3.
9. Robert Crawford, “Health as Meaningful Social Practice,”
Health: An Interdisciplinary Journal for the Social Study of Health,
Medicine, and Illness 10, no. 4 (2006): 410, 402.
10. Nestle, Food Politics, 39.
11. Warren Belasco, Appetite for Change: How the Counter Culture
Took on the Food Industry, 1966–1988 (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University
Press, 1989); Nestle, Food Politics.
12. I write elsewhere about why the term “obesity” and the con-
cept of an obesity epidemic are problematic; Biltekoff, Eating Right,
chap. 5. See also Guthman, Weighing In, chap. 2; Eric J. Oliver, Fat
Politics: The Real Story Behind America’s Obesity Epidemic (New
York: Oxford University Press, 2006); Amy Erdman Farrell, Fat
Shame: Stigma and the Fat Body in American Culture (New York: New
York University Press, 2011).
13. Saguy, What’s Wrong with Fat?, 44–49; Saguy and Riley,
“Weighing Both Sides.”
14. Saguy, What’s Wrong with Fat?
15. Ibid., 72–73, 85–89.
16. Ibid., chap. 2; Biltekoff, Eating Right, chap. 5.
17. Biltekoff, Eating Right, 133.
18. Saguy, What’s Wrong with Fat?, 84; Brownell and Horgen,
Food Fight; Oliver, Fat Politics; Moss, Salt Sugar Fat.
19. Saguy, What’s Wrong with Fat?, 77.
20. See, e.g., Eric Schlosser, Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the
All-American Meal (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 2001); Morgan Spur-
lock, dir., Super Size Me (Samuel Goldwyn Films, Roadside Attrac-
tions, Los Angeles, 2004); Stephanie Soechtig, dir., Fed Up (Weinstein
Company, Los Angeles, 2014); Robert Kenner, dir., Food, Inc. (Magnolia
Pictures, New York, 2009); Raj Patel, Stuffed and Starved: The Hidden
Battle for the World Food System, rev. and updated (Brooklyn, NY:
Melville House Publishing, 2007).
21. Biltekoff, Eating Right, 128–29; see also Julie Guthman, “Fast
Food / Organic Food: Reflexive Tastes and the Making of ‘Yuppie
Chow,’” Social and Cultural Geography 4, no. 1 (2003): 46–58.
22. Nestle, Food Politics, 360.
23. Ibid., 4; original emphasis.
24. Ibid., 40–42; quote on 42.
25. Ibid., chaps. 1–3.
26. Ibid., 4. See also her more recent book: Nestle, Unsavory Truth.
27. Nestle, Food Politics, 20–21.
28. Ibid., 361.
29. Brownell and Horgen, Food Fight.
30. Ibid., 199.
31. Ibid., 238–39.
32. Ibid., 244–45.
33. Ibid., chap. 10; Kelly D. Brownell and Kenneth E. Warner,
“The Perils of Ignoring History: Big Tobacco Played Dirty and Mil-
lions Died. How Similar Is Big Food?,” Milbank Quarterly 87, no. 1
(2009): 259–94.
34. Jennifer Clapp and Gyorgy Scrinis, “Big Food, Nutritionism,
and Corporate Power,” Globalizations 14, no. 4 (2016): 578–95.
35. For more on the intersection between these two movements:
Biltekoff, Eating Right, 108–11; Guthman, “Fast Food / Organic Food.”
36. Belasco, Appetite for Change, 82–83.
37. Laura Miller, Building Nature’s Market: The Business and Pol-
itics of Natural Food (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2017), 17.
38. Belasco, Appetite for Change, 44–45.
39. Anne Raver, “Out of the Loss of a Garden, Another Life Les-
son,” New York Times, August 18, 2010.
40. Joan Dye Gussow, Growth, Truth, and Responsibility: Food
Is the Bottom Line, Occasional Papers, vol. 11, no. 9 (University of
North Carolina–Greensboro: Institute of Nutrition, March 1981), 10.
Originally delivered in the Ellen Swallow Richards Lecture series,
November 17, 1980.
41. Wendell Berry, “The Pleasures of Eating,” in Our Sustainable
Table, ed. Robert Clark for Journal of Gastronomy (San Francisco:
North Point Press, 1990), 175.
42. Guthman, Weighing In, 142–43.

43. Guthman, “Fast Food / Organic Food.”
44. Guthman, Weighing In, 145.
45. Biltekoff, Eating Right, chaps. 4 and 5.
46. “In Defense of Food,” https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/In
_Defense_of_Food.
47. Michael Pollan, “Unhappy Meals,” New York Times, January
28 2007; Pollan, In Defense of Food, 9.
48. Gyorgy Scrinis, Nutritionism: The Science and Politics of
Dietary Advice (New York: Columbia University Press, 2013).
49. Pollan, In Defense of Food, 63.
50. Pollan, “Unhappy Meals”; Pollan, In Defense of Food, 83–136.
51. Pollan, “Unhappy Meals.”
52. Pollan, In Defense of Food, 32.
53. Ibid., 80.
54. Carlos A. Monteiro, “Nutrition and Health. The Issue Is Not
Food, nor Nutrients, So Much as Processing,” Public Health Nutrition
12, no. 5 (2009): 729–31.
55. Carlos Monteiro, “The Big Issue Is Ultra-Processing,” World
Nutrition 1, no. 6 (2010): 238.
56. Ibid.
57. For more on “undone science,” see David J. Hess, Undone Sci-
ence: Social Movements, Mobilized Publics and Industrial Transitions
(Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2016); Monteiro, “The Big Issue,” 245.
58. Monteiro, “The Big Issue,” 245.
59. Ibid., 239, 241.
60. Ibid., 243–45.
61. Carlos Monteiro, Geoffrey Cannon, Renata Bertazzi Levy,
Rafael Claro, Jean-Claude Moubarac, et al., “The Food System. Ultra-
Processing. The Big Issue for Nutrition, Disease, Health, Well-Being,”
World Nutrition 3, no. 12 (2012): 532.
62. Ibid., 554–56.
63. Carlos Monteiro, Geoffrey Cannon, Renata Levy, et al.,
“NOVA. The Star Shines Bright,” World Nutrition 7, no. 1–3 (2016): 35.
64. Melanie Warner, “What a Junk Food Diet Tells Us about
the Dismal State of Nutrition Science,” November 10, 2010,
https://www.cbsnews.com/news/what-a-junk-food-diet-tells-us
-about-the-dismal-state-of-nutrition-science/.
65. Euridice Martínez Steele, Larissa Galastri Baraldi, Maria
Laura De Costa Louzada, et al., “Ultra-Processed Foods and Added
Sugars in the US Diet: Evidence from a Nationally Representative
Cross-Sectional Study,” BMJ Open 6, no. e009892 (2016), https://doi
.org/10.1136/bmjopen-2015-009892. Lexus Nexus shows 20 articles
in 2016 with “ultra-processed” food in the title.
66. Julie Beck, “More Than Half of What Americans Eat Is
‘Ultra-Processed,’” The Atlantic, March 2016, https://www.theatlantic
.com/health/archive/2016/03/more-than-half-of-what-americans-eat
-is-ultra-processed/472791/. Not surprisingly, critics coming from
food science and nutrition portrayed NOVA as ambiguous, unsci-
entific, and part of the larger problem of misinformation and irra-
tional fears related to processed food, also accusing it of risking
reducing dietary quality by steering people away from beneficial
processed foods. See, e.g., R. Botelho, W. Araújo, and L. Pineli, “Food
Formulation and Not Processing Level: Conceptual Divergences
between Public Health and Food Science and Technology Sectors,”
Critical Reviews in Food Science and Nutrition 58, no. 4 (2018): 639–
50; Johnana T. Dwyer et al., “Is ‘Processed’ a Four-Letter Word?
The Role of Processed Foods in Achieving Dietary Guidelines and
Nutrient Recommendations,” Advances in Nutrition 3, no. 4 (2012):
536–48; Michael J. Gibney, “Ultra-Processed Foods: Definitions and
Policy Issues,” Current Developments in Nutrition 3, no. 2 (2019): 1–7;
Julie M. Jones, “Food Processing: Criteria for Dietary Guidance and
Public Health?,” Proceedings of the Nutrition Society 78 (2019): 4–18;
Michael J. Gibney, Ciáran Deidre Mullaly, et al., “Ultraprocessed
Foods in Human Health: A Critical Appraisal,” American Journal of
Clinical Nutrition 106 (2017): 717–24.
67. Ulrich Beck, Risk Society: Towards a New Modernity (London:
Sage, 1992); Heiss, “‘Healthy’ Discussions about Risk”; Lowe, Phil-
lipson, and Lee, “Socio-Technical Innovation for Sustainable Food
Chains,” 228.
68. Heiss, “‘Healthy’ Discussions,” 221–23; Beck, Risk Society;
MacKendrick, Better Safe Than Sorry.
69. Heiss, “‘Healthy’ Discussions”; Sarah N. Heiss, “A ‘Naturally

Sweet’ Definition: An Analysis of the Sugar Association’s Definition
of the Natural as a Terministic Screen,” Health Communication 30,
no. 6 (2015): 536–44.
70. Angela N. H. Creager and Jean-Paul Gaudillière, Introduc-
tion to Risk on the Table: Food Production, Health, and the Environ-
ment, ed. Angela N. H. Creager and Jean-Paul Gaudillière (New York:
Berghahn Books, 2021), 3.
71. Blue, “Food, Publics, Science,” 148.
72. Heiss, “A ‘Naturally Sweet’ Definition,” 537.
73. As discussed in the introduction, the reduction of public
concerns about the food system to quantifiable risk is an effect of
scientization.
74. Lowe, Phillipson, and Lee, “Socio-Technical Innovation,” 229;
Kinchy, Seeds, Science and Struggle; Schurman and Munro, Fighting
for the Future of Food.
75. Kinchy, Seeds, Science and Struggle, 25–26.
76. MacKendrick, Better Safe Than Sorry, 26–33.
77. Ibid., 53.
78. Ibid., 38–40.
79. Ibid, 40–42; Melanie Warner, Pandora’s Lunchbox: How Pro-
cessed Food Took over the American Meal (New York: Simon and
Schuster, 2013), 104–9.
80. Helena Bottemiller, “Food Chemical Safety Relies on
Self-Policing, Pew Finds,” Food Safety News, October 7, 2011, https://
www.foodsafetynews.com/2011/10/food-chemical-safety-relies-on
-self-policing-pew-finds/.
81. Pew Research Center, “Fixing the Oversight of Chemi-
cals Added to Our Food: Findings and Recommendations of Pew’s
Assessment of the U.S. Food Additives Program,” 2013, https://www
.pewtrusts.org/-/media/legacy/uploadedfiles/phg/content_level
_pages/reports/foodadditivescapstonereportpdf.pdf.
82. MacKendrick, Better Safe Than Sorry, 43–45.
83. Blue, “Food, Publics, Science,” 148.
84. At the same time, these goals were much easier to achieve for
those with greater resources. MacKendrick describes, for example,
Notes to Chapter Two / 215
the extra time and labor involved in practicing what she calls “pre-
cautionary consumption” on a restricted budget. MacKendrick, Bet-
ter Safe Than Sorry, chap.6. See also Kate Cairns, Josée Johnston,
and Norah MacKendrick, “Feeding the ‘Organic Child’: Mothering
through Ethical Consumption,” Journal of Consumer Culture 13, no.
2 (2013): 97–118.
85. Cairns, Johnston, and MacKendrick, “‘Organic Child,’” 101.
86. MacKendrick, Better Safe Than Sorry, chap.6.
87. Ibid., 72–75.
88. Whole Foods advertises nine different “quality standards,”
including one for food ingredients that proudly bans over 230
ingredients. Ibid., 96; “Food Ingredient Quality Standards,” https://
www.wholefoodsmarket.com/quality-standards/food-ingredient
-standards.
89. MacKendrick, Better Safe Than Sorry, 93.
90. Ibid., 155.
C H A P T E R T WO. R E A L F O OD A N D R E A L FAC T S
IN THE CLASSROOM
1. Robert Kenner, dir., Food, Inc. (Magnolia Pictures, New York,

2009).
2. “IMDb: Food, Inc.,” https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1286537/;
John Anderson, “Food, Inc.,” Variety, September 11, 2008, https://
variety.com/2008/scene/markets-festivals/food-inc-1200470691/.
3. “Participant Media Teams with Center for Ecoliteracy to Bring
Food, Inc.-Inspired Discussion Guide to 3000 U.S. Schools” (2011),
http://www.participantmedia.com/2011/03/participant-media
-teams-center-ecoliteracy-bring-food-inc-inspired-discussion-guide
-3000-u-s-schools/.
4. Center for Ecoliteracy, “Food, Inc. Discussion Guide” (Partic-
ipant Media, LLC., 2009), https://www.ecoliteracy.org/download
/food-inc-discussion-guide.
5. IFIC describes itself as “a 501(c)(3) nonprofit educational orga-
nization with a mission to effectively communicate science-based
information about health, nutrition, food safety and agriculture.”
216 / Notes to Chapter Two
Members include Cargill, Coca-Cola, Danone, General Mills, Mars,

Mendelez International, and PepsiCo, among others. International
Food Information Council, “About IFIC”; International Food Infor-
mation Council, “Membership,” https://ific.org/work-with-us/our
-membership/. More information about IFIC is available in the
introduction.
7. Alliance to Feed the Future, “‘Alliance to Feed the Future’ Forms
to Tell the Real Story of Modern Food Production,” news release,
March 15, 2011, https://www.newswise.com/articles/alliance
-to-feed-the-future-forms-to-tell-the-real-story-of-modern-food
-production.
8. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Members,” n.d.
9. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Alliance to Feed the Future Pro-
vides Lessons on ‘Farm to Fork’ in New Educational Curricula for
Elementary and Middle School Students,” news release, July 31, 2012,
https://www.newswise.com/articles/alliance-to-feed-the-future
-provides-lessons-on-farm-to-fork-in-new-educational-curricula
-for-elementary-and-middle-school-students.
10. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Alliance to Feed the Future
Offers New Educational Curricula on ‘the Science of Feeding the
World’ for Students in Grades K–8,” news release, November 12, 2013.
12. Burri, “Imaginaries of Science and Society,” 233, 242.
13. Ibid., 244.
14. Gussow, “The Science and Politics of Nutrition Education.”
15. Center for Ecoliteracy, “Food, Inc. Discussion Guide” (Partici-
pant Media, 2009), 8–9.
16. Ibid., 10–12.
17. Ibid., 16.
18. Ibid., 16–19. The discussions were likely not as open ended
as this rhetoric imagines them to be. Questions the guide posed and
activities it suggested both inside and outside the classroom clearly
had specific directions and outcomes in mind. Nonetheless, the
professed desire for open-ended debate and dialogue about the food
system remains significant, especially in contrast to the avowedly

didactic, linear transfer of expert knowledge that the Alliance
lessons embraced.
19. Center for Ecoliteracy, “Food, Inc. Discussion Guide,” 10.
20. Ibid., 12–15.
21. Ibid., 13–14.
22. “About Food, Inc.,” https://www.pbs.org/pov/films/foodinc/.
23. These assumptions were behind much of Pollan’s work, as
well as other work that sought to inform the public about where
their food comes from such as Schlosser’s Fast Food Nation.
Pollan, The Omnivore’s Dilemma; Pollan, In Defense of Food. The con-
cept has been discussed at length in the agri-food scholarship. See,
e.g., Ian Hudson and Mark Hudson, “Removing the Veil? Commod-
ity Fetishism, Fair Trade, and the Environment,” Organization &
Environment 16, no. 4 (2003): 413–30; David Goodman, E. Melanie
DuPuis, and Michael K. Goodman, Alternative Food Networks:
Knowldege, Practice, and Politics (Abingdon: Routledge, 2012); Ali-
son Hope Alkon and Christie Grace McCullen, “Whiteness and
Farmers Markets: Performances, Perpetuations . . . Contestations?,”
Antipode 43, no. 4 (2010): 937–59.
24. Kenner, Food, Inc.
25. Center for Ecoliteracy, “Food, Inc. Discussion Guide,” 26, 29.
30. The role of consumption and consumer politics in food pol-
itics and alternative food movements has been richly discussed
and debated. See, e.g., Alan Warde, Consumption, Food, and Taste
(London: Sage, 1997); Guthman, Agrarian Dreams; Julie Guthman,
“Neoliberalism and the Making of Food Politics in California,”
Geoforum 39, no. 3 (2008): 1171–83; Blue, “Food, Publics, Science.”
32. Ibid., 89.
33. Ibid., 89–93.
34. Burri, “Imaginaries of Science and Society.”

35. Alliance to Feed the Future, “‘Alliance to Feed the Future’
Forms.”
36. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Alliance to Feed the Future Pro-
vides Lessons on ‘Farm to Fork” and “Alliance to Feed the Future
Offers New Educational Curricula.”
37. Wynne, “Public Engagement as a Means of Restoring Public
Trust in Science,” 214.
38. For discussion of similar strategies in relation to genetic
engineering, see Marris, “Public Views on GMOs”; Erika Szyman-
ski, “Constructing Science in the Public: Framing Synthetic Yeast
in News Media,” in Exploring Science Communication: A Science and
Technology Approach, ed. Ulrike Felt and Sarah Davies (London:
Sage, 2020), 150–69. For discussion of similar strategies in relation
to alternative protein, see Alexandra E. Sexton, Tara Garnett, and
Jamie Lorimer, “Framing the Future of Food: The Contested Prom-
ises of Alternative Proteins,” Environment and Planning E: Nature
and Space 2, no. 1 (2019): 47–72.
39. Alliance to Feed the Future, “A Super System: Understanding
the Benefits of the Modern Food Production System,” 2012.
40. Alliance to Feed the Future, “It All Adds Up!,” 2012.
41. Christopher R. Mayes and Donald B. Thompson, “What
Should We Eat? Biopolitics, Ethics, and Nutritional Scientism,” Jour-
nal of Bioethical Inquiry 12, no. 4 (December 2015): 592.
42. Iain Cameron and David Edge, Scientific Images and Their
Social Uses: An Introduction to the Concept of Scientism (London: But-
tersworths, 1979), 2; Cited in Mayes and Thompson, “What Should
We Eat?,” 592.
43. “Next Generation Science Standards, FAQ,” https://www.next
genscience.org/faqs##3.3.
44. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Watching Mold Grow,” 2013.
45. Mayes and Thompson, “What Should We Eat?,” 592.
46. As discussed in the introduction, Gussow notes that when
faced with the same facts about fiber, different assumptions about
the aims and trajectory of the food system will cause some to ask,
“In what form should we be fortifying food with fiber?,” while
others ask, “In what ways should we be modifying our processing

methods so as to retain more fiber in food?” Gussow, “Science and
Politics,” 141.
47. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Fortified for Health,” 2013.
48. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Fruits of our Labor,” “Endless
Options,” “Mapping Meals,” “Precious Produce,” “Egg Drop Dare,”
“Growing with Hydroponics,” 2013.
50. M. Korthals, “This Is or Is Not Food: Framing Malnutrition,
Obesity and Healthy Eating,” in Climate Change and Sustainable
Development: Ethical Perspectives on Land Use and Food Production,
ed. Thomas Potthast and Simon Meisch (Wageningen, Netherlands:
Wageningen Academic Publishers, 2012), 289.
51. Ibid., 289–90.
52. For discussion of the “ontological turn” in STS, see, e.g., John
Law and Marianne Elisabeth Lien, “Slippery: Field Notes on Empir-
ical Ontology,” Social Studies of Science 43, no. 3 (2012): 363–78;
Annemarie Mol, “Ontological Politics: A Word and Some Questions,”
Sociological Review 47, no. S1 (1999): 74–89; Steve Woolgar and Javier
Lezaun, “The Wrong Bin Bag: A Turn to Ontology in Science and
Technology Studies?,” Social Studies of Science 43, no. 3 (2013): 321–40.
53. Korthals, “This Is or Is Not Food.”
54. Annemarie Mol, “Mind Your Plate! The Ontonorms of Dutch
Dieting,” Social Studies of Science 43, no. 3 (2012): 380–81.
55. “Food,” https://www.dictionary.com/browse/food.
57. Ibid., 58.
58. Ibid., 64.
59. Ibid., 66.
60. Ibid., 68.
65. Ideas for Action in “Unintended Consequences” included
“have students research E. coli and other food contaminants and
create a brochure for families on keeping food safe from

contamination.” Ideas for Action in “The Dollar Menu” included
“encourage students to keep a food log for a week and to look for
ways to include healthy food in their diet” and a prompt for creating
a cookbook of inexpensive, simple recipes using nutritious ingredi-
ents. Ibid., 44, 52.
66. Korthals, “This Is or Is Not Food,” 289.
67. As Woolgar and Lezaun suggest, the insistence on “a singu-
larized world” and on the unproblematic and ordinary status of a
contested entity is a form of ontological politics. In their case study
focusing on trash bags (aka bin bags), they explain, “The claim the
bin bag can only be what it already is makes possible, and goes
hand in hand with, the denigration of other ‘versions’ of the bag
as motivated, influenced, socially informed and, in short, political”
(“Wrong Bin Bag,” 334). Similarly, the reassertion throughout the
lessons that food could “only be what it already was” went hand in
hand with the Alliance’s denigration of Food, Inc.’s version of food
as “misinformation.”
68. Alliance to Feed the Future, “A Food Journey,” 2012.
69. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Apples to Applesauce,” 2012.
70. Alliance to Feed the Future, “All in Order,” 2012.
71. For more on romantic pastoral imaginaries, see Alkon and
McCullen, “Whiteness and Farmers Markets”; Kim Q. Hall, “Crip-
ping Sustainability, Realizing Food Justice,” in Disability Studies
and the Environmental Humanities: Toward an Eco-Crip Theory, ed.
Sarah Jaquette Ray and Jay Sibara (Lincoln: University of Nebraska
Press, 2017), 422–46.
72. Alliance to Feed the Future, “A Food Journey”; “All in Order”;
“What Does a Farmer Do before Breakfast?,” 2012.
73. Lang and Heasman, Food Wars, 25–31. For another
example of this kind of argument in action, see Jeff Simmons,
“Why Agriculture Needs Technology to Help Meet a Growing
Demand for Safe, Nutritious and Affordable Food,” Food Eco-
nomics and Consumer Choice (2009), https://www.slideshare.net
/trufflemedia/food-economics-and-consumer-choice-white-paper.
74. For more on the framing of technological urgency around

the coming nine billion by 2050 in the context of agri-food tech, see
Sexton, Garnett, and Lorimer, “Framing the Future of Food”; Julie
Guthman et al., “In the Name of Protein,” Nature Food 3 (2022): 391–
93; Benjamin Aldes Wurgaft, “Meat for Spaceship Earth?,” Semico-
pia, http://www.semicopia.com/meat-for-spaceship-earth.html.
75. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Growing and Growing,” 2012.
76. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Food Choice, Cost and Conve-
nience,” 2012.
77. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Heathful Eating on the Go,” 2012.
78. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Food Charades,” 2012.
79. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Play It Safe,” 2012; “Party Crash-
ers,” 2012.
80. Saguy, What’s Wrong with Fat?
81. US Department of Agriculture, “MyPlate,” https://www.my
plate.gov/; Nestle, Food Politics.
82. Alliance to Feed the Future, “A Full Plate,” 2012.
83. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Food for a Day,” 2012; “Two Full
Plates,” 2012. These were clearly shaped by nutritionism, especially
nutrient reductionism that blurred the boundaries between whole
and processed food and participated in the making of what Scrinis
calls nutricentric subjects. Scrinis, Nutritionism.
84. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Which Meal?,” 2012; “Food for
a Day.”
85. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Perfect Portions,” 2012.
86. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Which Meal?”
87. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Healthful Eating and Energy
Balance, Parent Send Home Page,” 2012.
88. Alliance to Feed the Future, “Tracking My Daily Activities,”
2012.
89. Scrinis, Nutritionism.
90. Mayes and Thompson, “What Should We Eat?,” 592.
91. Ibid., 593.
92. Korthals, “This Is or Is Not Food.”
93. Burri, “Imaginaries of Science and Society.”
222 / Notes to Chapter Three
C H A P T E R T H R E E . F I G H T I N G F O R “ N A T U R A L”
1. Lauren R. Hartman, “Riding the Free-from Movement,” Food

Processing, June 3, 2015.
2. Lauren R. Hartman, “Food Color Evolves as Consumers Push
for Clean Labels,” Food Processing, August 25, 2015.
3. Lauren R. Hartman, “Clean Slate on Clean Labels,” Food Pro-
cessing, September 15, 2015.
4. Lauren R. Hartman, “Infographic: What Consumers Look for
When Buying Food Products,” Food Processing, November 19, 2015.
5. Monica Eng, “‘Natural’ Isn’t Always Organic,” Los Angeles
Times, July 11, 2009, B4; Diane Toops, “Have Food Processors Found
the Holy Grail of Sweeteners?,” Food Processing, January 27, 2010;
“Natural Label to Gain Momentum in 2008,” Food Processing, Jan-
uary 4, 2008.
6. A. Elizabeth Sloan, “Navigating the Natural Marketplace,”
Food Technology, 65, no.7 (July 2011).
7. Stephanie Strom, “The Food Is Modified, the Label Is ‘Natural,’”
New York Times, December 20, 2013, B3; Matthew Mientka, “The
Unnatural Death of ‘Natural,’” Newsweek, November 22, 2013, 1.
8. US Food and Drug Administration, “Use of the Term N
atural on
Food Labeling,” https://www.fda.gov/food/food-labeling-nutrition
/use-term-natural-food-labeling; Leslie Krux, “Use of the Term
‘Natural’ in Human Food Products; Request for Information and
Comments,” Food and Drug Administration Health and Human Ser-
vices, 69905-09, 2015, https://www.federalregister.gov/documents
/2015/11/12/2015-28779/use-of-the-term-natural-in-the-labeling-of
-human-food-products-request-for-information-and-comments.
9. Leslie Krasny, “Natural Claim Still Subject to Uncertainty
over Standards,” Food Processing, April 3, 2007; Carolyn Fisher and
Ricardo Carvajal, “What Is Natural?,” Food Technology, November
2008. Also in 2007, actors hired by small chicken processors wore
chicken suits in a demonstration in Washington, DC, demand-
ing that the two biggest processors, Tyson and Pilgrim’s Pride, no
longer be allowed to call their saltwater-pumped chickens “100%
natural.” Cindy Skrzycki, “Crying Foul in Debate over ‘Natural’
Chicken,” Washington Post, November 6, 2007, D02.
10. Mientka, “Unnatural Death.”
Notes to Chapter Three / 223
11. “Just What Is ‘Natural’ Food?,” Los Angeles Times, November

21, 2012, A14.
12. Noah Hagey, Matthew Borden, and Rebecca Cross, “How
Food Processors Can Avoid ‘Natural’ Disasters,” Food Processing,
March 14, 2012; Mientka, “Unnatural Death.”
13. Julia Dayton Klein, “An Eater’s Guide to the Natural Label-
ing Food Fight,” Landslide: A Publication of the ABA Section of Intel-
lectual Property Law 9, no. 1 (2016), https://www.americanbar.org
/groups/intellectual_property_law/publications/landslide/2016-17
/september-october/eater-s-guide-natural-labeling-food-fight/;
Anahad O’Connor, “Is Your Food Natural? FDA to Weigh In,” New
York Times, May 17, 2016; Strom, “Food Is Modified.”
14. A. Elizabeth Sloan, “Clean Label Rules, but Confusion
Reigns,” Food Technology 69, no. 9 (September 2015): 48–51; “Com-
ing Clean,” Food Technology 68, no. 5 (May 2014): 26.
15. Toni Tarver, “Food Labels: Defining a New Narrative,” Food
Technology 69, no. 10 (2015): 35–47.
16. Lu Ann Williams, “Formulating for Clean Label Products,”
Food Technology 70, no. 1 (January 2016): 36-47; Hartman, “Clean
Slate”; Sloan, “Clean Label Rules”; Melanie Zanoza Bartelme, “Clean
Label Is Here to Stay,” Food Technology 69, no. 11 (November, 2015):
12; Tarver, “Food Labels”; Karen Nachay, “Giving Consumers Clarity
in Their Food Choices,” Food Technology 69, no. 9 (September 2015):
16; Innova, “Innova’s Top 10 Food, Beverage Trends for 2016,” news
release, November 17, 2015; Karen Nachay, “Foreseeing Future Food
Trends,” Food Technology 69, no. 1 (2015): 14; Dave Fusaro, “Pizza
Hut and Taco Bell Clean up Their Menus,” Food Processing, May 28,
2015; Roger Clemens, “Coloring Clean Labels?,” Food Technology 70,
no. 3 (2016): 19–20; Tarver, “Food Labels”; Karen Nachay and Melanie
Zanoza Bartelme, “Ingredients for a Changing Consumer Land-
scape,” Food Technology 70, no. 6 (2016): 50–96; Lauren R. Hartman,
“Processor of the Year 2016: Research & Development at General
Mills,” Food Processing, December 12, 2016; Lauren R. Hartman,
“Making Foods Transparent,” Food Processing, April 11, 2016.
17. Rachel Zemser, “Tastes Like, Reads Like Homemade,” Food
Processing, September 2015, 3–5. Supplement, “The Clean Label
Challenge: Improving Ingredient Statements and Transparency.”
224 / Notes to Chapter Three
18. Food Processing, “The Battle for the Cereal Bowl,” Food Pro-
cessing, August 2, 2010.
19. Mark Anthony, “Baking for the Future,” Food Processing,
February 2, 2011.
20. David Phillips, “Label It Clean,” Food Processing, October 3,
2014.
21. Barbara Katz and Lu Ann Williams, “Cleaning up Processed
Foods,” Food Technology 65, no.12 (December 2011): 32–37.
22. Ibid.; original emphasis.
23. Ibid.
24. Nadia Berenstein, “Clean Label’s Dirty Little Secret,” The
Counter, February 1, 2018.
25. Schleifer and DeSoucey, “What Your Consumer Wants.”
26. Clemens, “Coloring Clean Labels?”
27. Zemser, “Tastes Like, Reads Like Homemade.”
28. Toni Tarver, “Quest for Clean Labels Causes Murky Legal
Actions,” Food Technology 68, no. 7 (2014): 36–46.
29. Dave Fusaro, “Science Doesn’t Matter,” Food Processing, May
22, 2015.
30. Ibid.
31. All of the documents related to the FDA’s request for public
comment and referenced in the rest of this chapter (including the
request itself, the citizens’ petitions, and all of the comments sub-
mitted to the docket) can be found online at https://www.regulations
.gov/document/FDA-2014-N-1207-0001. Additional details: Docket #:
FDA-2014-N-1207-0001; Document ID FDA-2014-N-1207-0001; Fed-
eral Register Number 2015-28779; Federal Register Citation 80 FR
69905; start and end page 69905–69909.
32. Krux, “Use of the Term ‘Natural’ in Human Food Products.”
33. Ibid.
34. “Peeling Back the ‘Natural’ Label,” Consumer Reports 81, no.
3 (2016): 10. See also “The Trouble with Labels Like ‘Natural’ and
‘All Natural,’” Consumer Reports, February 16, 2016, http://www
.consumerreports.org/food-safety/the-trouble-with-labels-like
-natural-and-all-natural/.
Notes to Chapter Three / 225
35. Details on the policy are available at https://www.ams.usda

.gov/services/organic-certification/organic-basics.
36. Guthman, Agrarian Dreams.
37. Sally Eden, “Food Labels as Boundary Objects: How Consum-
ers Make Sense of Organic and Functional Foods,” Public Under-
standing of Science 20, no. 2 (2009): 179–94; Cairns, Johnston, and
MacKendrick, “Feeding the ‘Organic Child.’”
38. E.g., Cropp Cooperative, Global Organics, and Nature’s Path.
39. The Organic and Natural Health Association’s stated mis-
sion: “Unite consumers and corporations and transform business
practices in alignment with regenerative systems to support the
health of people and planet.” The organization operates as a trade
group, engaging in advocacy, education, and research. Association
members “pledge to adhere to a compendium of quality standards
requiring integrity throughout the entire supply chain and commit
to continuing to advance these standards.” Members include bio-
tech companies, functional ingredient and nutritional s upplement
makers, an association representing grass-fed animal produc-
ers, the American Nutrition Association, the Organic Consumers
Association, and more. See https://organicandnatural.org/.
40. Belasco, Appetite for Change.
41. Michael S. Kideckel, “Anti-Intellectualism and Natural Food:
The Shared Language of Industry and Activists in America since
1830,” Gastronomica: The Journal of Critical Food Studies 18, no. 1
(2018): 44–54.
42. Miller, Building Nature’s Market, 17.
43. Heiss, “A ‘Naturally Sweet’ Definition”; Helena Siipi, “Is Natu-
ral Food Healthy?,” Journal of Agricultural and Environmental Ethics
26, no. 4 (2013): 797–812; Trauth, “Nutritional Noise”; Mark Sagoff,
“Genetic Engineering and the Concept of the Natural,” Philosophy
& Public Policy Quarterly 21, no. 2–3 (2001): 2–10; Anders Hansen,
“Tampering with Nature: ‘Nature’ and the ‘Natural’ in Media Cover-
age of Genetics and Biotechnology,” Media, Culture & Society 28, no. 6
(2006): 811–44; “Discourses of Nature in Advertising,” Communica-
tions 27, no. 4 (2002): 499–511.
226 / Notes to Chapter Four
44. Raymond Williams, Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture

and Society (London, Flamingo / Fontana: 1983), cited in Hansen,
“Tampering with Nature,” 812.
45. Ibid., 827.
46. Ibid.
47. Ibid., 813.
48. See Sagoff, “Genetic Engineering and the Concept of the Nat-
ural,” for an interesting argument about the role the food industry
itself plays in stoking public desire for “natural” food while also
wanting the public to embrace genetic technology even though
it “belies the image of nature or of the natural to which the food
industry constantly and conspicuously appeals” (2).
546; Wynne, “Creating Public Alienation.”
50. See, e.g., comments from Heliae, Sugar Association, Pure Cir-
cle, American Pistachio Growers.
51. For a more thorough analysis of the role of natural claims in
the Sugar Association’s efforts to position sugar against high fruc-
tose corn syrup, see Heiss, “A ‘Naturally Sweet’ Definition.”
52. Hess, Undone Science, 12.
53. Claire Marris, “The Construction of Imaginaries of the
Public,” 84.
54. Wynne, “Public Engagement as a Means of Restoring Public
Trust in Science”; Brian Wynne, “Further Disorientation in the Hall
of Mirrors,” Public Understanding of Science 23, no. 1 (2014): 60–70;
Wynne, “Public Alienation.”
55. Sun-Maid and the Produce Marketing Association were also
among those that criticized the Consumer Reports research.
56. Wynne, “Public Alienation”; Marris, “Public Views on
GMOs”; Welsh and Wynne, “Science, Scientism and Imaginaries.”
57. Marris, “Construction of Imaginaries.”
58. Wynne, “Further Disorientation,” 64.
C H A P T E R F O U R . T H E PA R A D OX E S
O F T R A N S PA R E N C Y
1. As noted in the introduction, between 2009 and 2019 the CFI

and its work were quoted, cited, or otherwise favorably discussed
Notes to Chapter Four / 227
in about 175 articles spanning local newspapers (e.g., Santa Mon-

ica Daily Press, Grand Rapids Press, and Iowa State Daily), national
media outlets (e.g., NPR, CNBC, CNN, The Atlantic, USA Today, Forbes,
and Fortune), and food industry trade publications (e.g., Food Navi-
gator, Beef Magazine, Corn and Soybean Digest, and Food Processing).
2. Center for Food Integrity, “Cracking the Code on Food Issues:
Insights from Moms, Millenials and Foodies,” 2014 Consumer Trust
Research Report, 2014, 1–4.
3. Brian R. Cook et al., “The Persistence of ‘Normal’ Catchment
Management Despite the Participatory Turn: Exploring the Power
Effects of Competing Frames of Reference,” Social Studies of Science
43, no. 5 (2013): 754–79; Alan Irwin, “The Politics of Talk,” Social
Studies of Science 36, no. 2 (2006): 299–320; Alan Irwin, “From Defi-
cit to Democracy (Re-Visited),” Public Understanding of Science 23,
no. 1 (2014): 71–76; Sheila Jasanoff, “A Mirror for Science,” Public
Understanding of Science 23, no. 1 (2014): 21–26; Leach, Scoones, and
Wynne, Science and Citizens; Wynne, “Public Engagement.”
4. Irwin, “Politics of Talk.”
5. Ibid., 304.
6. Ibid, 301. Here Irwin is citing R. P. Hagendijk, “The Public
Understanding of Science and Public Participation in Regulated
Worlds,” Minerva 42 (March 2004): 41–59.
7. Brownell and Horgen, Food Fight; Pollan, “Unhappy Meals”;
Pollan, The Omnivore’s Dilemma.
8. Jack Witthaus, “Missouri Farm Advocates Thank Willie Nelson
for 1995 Flatbed Concert,” Columbia Tribune, March 31, 2015, https://
www.columbiatribune.com/article/20150331/News/303319901.
9. Charlie Arnot, interview by Charlotte Biltekoff, September 15,
2020.
10. Center for Food Integrity, “Inside the Minds of Influencers:
The Truth about Trust,” 2016 Consumer Trust Research Summary, 2.
11. “Best Food Facts,” https://www.bestfoodfacts.org/; “Coalition
for Sustainable Egg Supply,” https://www2.sustainableeggcoalition
.org/; “Coalition for Responsible Gene Editing in Agriculture,”
https://geneediting.foodintegrity.org/.
12. Center for Food Integrity, “Cracking the Code.”
13. The CFI publishes a list of members on its website (https://
foodintegrity.org/members/cfi-members/). The list cited here is from
a July 2020 download of membership materials, which included a

2017 membership list marked as last updated February 9, 2018.
14. “Best Food Facts.”
15. Arnot stated this directly in our interview, but it’s also clear
from the frequency and prominence of the CFI’s own references to
its peer-reviewed publication in the annual trust reports and other
materials.
16. Stephen Sapp et al., “Consumer Trust in the U.S. Food System:
An Examination of the Recreancy Theorem,” Rural Sociology 74, no.
4 (2009): 526; original emphasis. The social science they cite here:
Judith. Bradbury, “The Policy Implications of Differing Concepts of
Risk,” Science, Technology & Human Values 14 (1989): 380–99; Ber-
nard L. Cohen, “Criteria for Technology Acceptability,” Risk Analysis
5, no. 1 (1989): 1–3; Baruch Fischhoff, “Risk Perception and Commu-
nication Unplugged: Twenty Years of Progress,” Risk Analysis 15
(1995): 137–45.
17. Sapp et al., “Consumer Trust,” 527.
18. Ibid., 529–30.
19. Arnot interview.
20. Sapp et al., “Consumer Trust,” 542.
21. Center for Food Integrity, 2011 Consumer Trust Research, 3, 5.
22. Ibid.
24. Center for Food Integrity, “Cracking the Code,” 4, 2.
25. Ibid., 6.
27. Center for Food Integrity, “Cracking the Code,” 2–7.
28. Ibid.; Scrinis, Nutritionism; Nestle, Unsavory Truth; Nestle,
Food Politics.
29. Center for Food Integrity, “Cracking the Code,” 16.
30. Center for Food Integrity, “The Center for Food Integrity,”
Flyer, 2015.
31. Center for Food Integrity, “New Online Training Provides
Tools to Engage with Consumers in a New Way,” news release, April
24, 2017.
32. Center for Food Integrity, “Engage Online,” 2017.
33. Ibid.
34. Ibid.
35. Ibid.
How It Builds Consumer Trust,” 2015 Consumer Trust Research
Report.
37. Zeide, Canned, 9.
38. Susanne Freidberg, “Cleaning Up Down South: Supermar-
kets, Ethical Trade and African Horticulture,” Social & Cultural
Geography 4, no. 1 (2003): 27–43; Julie Guthman, “If They Only
Knew: Color Blindness and Universalism in California Alternative
Food Institutions,” Professional Geographer 60, no. 3 (2008): 387–97;
Eden, “Food Labels as Boundary Objects.” This construct is similar
to the deficit model of the public understanding of science but is not
tethered to scientism.
39. Clare Birchall, “Introduction to ‘Secrecy and Transparency’:
The Politics of Opacity and Openness,” Theory, Culture & Society 28,
no. 7–8 (2012): 8.
40. Marilyn Strathern, “The Tyranny of Transparency,” British
Educational Research Journal 26, no. 3 (2000): 309.
41. Susanne Freidberg, French Beans and Food Scares: Culture
and Commerce in an Anxious Age (Oxford: Oxford University Press,
2004), 209; Freidberg, “Cleaning Up”; Susanne Freidberg, “The Ethi-
cal Complex of Corporate Food Power,” Environment and Planning D:
Society and Space 22, no. 4 (2004): 513–21.
How It Builds Consumer Trust,” 2015 Consumer Trust Research.
43. Charlie Arnot, Size Matters: Why We Love to Hate Big Food
(Cham, Switzerland: Springer International, 2018); Center for
Food Integrity, “Engage Online.”
44. In his 2018 book Arnot discusses the role that two major
food industry scandals played in reducing consumer trust in
the food system. Arnot, Size Matters, chap. 2.
45. Center for Food Integrity, “Engage Online.” Wynne talks
about the production of the 1996 mad cow crisis as a creation myth
for public mistrust in science in the UK, projecting blame onto
“incompetent publics, irresponsible and misinformed media and

non-governmental organizations, as well as other convenient scape-
goats” while refusing to consider the ways institutional
science
itself was implicated in the “public mistrust of science problem.”
Wynne, “Public Engagement,” 212.
46. Center for Food Integrity, “CFI 2015 Consumer Trust
Research: Part 1: Transparency,” webinar, December 10, 2015.
47. Ibid. See also CFI’s subsequent webinars on transparency:
“CFI 2015 Consumer Trust Research: Part 3: Transparency: Impact
of Diet on Health,” presented by Sarah Downs, January 21, 2016;
“Part 4: Transparency: Impact of Food Safety,” presented by Roxy
Beck, June 15, 2016; “Part 7: Transparency: Animal Well-Being,”
presented by Donna Moenning, March 24, 2016.
48. Marris, “The Construction of Imaginaries,” 93.
49. Center for Food Integrity, “Nourishing Trust-Building
Transparency,” webinar, presented by J. J. Jones, 2019, https://www
.youtube.com/watch?v=oL6mbVZDj0Y.
51. Center for Food Integrity, “Nourishing Trust-Building
Transparency.”
52. Center for Food Integrity and Food Marketing Institute,
“Transparency Roadmap for Food Retailers: Strategies to Build
Consumer Trust,” 2018 Consumer Trust Research Report; Arnot
interview.
53. Center for Food Integrity and Food Marketing Institute,
“Transparency Roadmap,” 8.
54. Arnot, Size Matters, 48.
55. Irwin, “Politics of Talk,” 305.
56. Center for Food Integrity, “Optimizing Sustainability Project:
Responding to Requests for Commitments,” 2018 Consumer Trust
Research Report, 3; Center for Food Integrity, “Optimizing Sustain-
ability Project: Setting Sustainability Priorities,” 2018 Consumer
Trust Research Report, 3. See https://optimizingsustainability.org/.
57. Center for Food Integrity, “Optimizing Sustainability Project:
Responding to Requests,” 4; Center for Food Integrity, “ Optimizing
Sustainability Project: Prioritizing and Communicating.” See

https://optimizingsustainability.org/.
58. Center for Food Integrity, “Optimizing Sustainability Proj-
ect,” https://optimizingsustainability.org/evaluating/case-studies/;
Center for Food Integrity, “Optimizing Sustainability Project:
Setting Sustainability Priorities,” 2018, 14–15. See also Laura-Anne
Minkoff-Zern, “Knowing ‘Good Food’: Immigrant Knowledge and
the Racial Politics of Farmworker Food Insecurity,” Antipode
46, no. 5 (2012): 1990–2004; Laura-Anne Minkoff-Zern, “Hunger
amidst Plenty: Farmworker Food Insecurity and Coping Strategies
in California,” Local Environment 19, no. 2 (2014): 204–19; Michael
B. Elmes, “Economic Inequality, Food Insecurity, and the Erosion
of Equality of Capabilities in the United States,” Business & Society
57, no. 6 (2018): 1045–74; Valeria Morrill, Raychel Santo, and Karen
Bassarab, “Shining a Light on Labor: How Food Policy Councils
Can Support Food Chain Work” (Johns Hopkins Center for a Liv-
able Future, 2018), https://assets.jhsph.edu/clf/mod_clfResource
/doc/FPC-Labor-Guide-Final.pdf.
59. Hess, Undone Science.
60. Center for Food Integrity, “Optimizing Sustainability Proj-
ect,” https://optimizingsustainability.org/evaluating/case-studies/;
“Optimizing Sustainability Project: Setting Sustainability Priori-
ties,” 2018, 14–15.
61. Wynne, “Public Engagement,” 217, 218.
62. Center for Food Integrity, “2011 Consumer Trust Research,” 5.
63. Center for Food Integrity, “Engage Online,” 2017.
64. Javier Lezaun and Linda Soneryd, “Consulting Citizens:
Technologies of Elicitation and the Mobility of Publics,” Public
Understanding of Science 16, no. 3 (2016): 279, 287.
65. Another example: in the Optimizing Sustainability frame-
work for responding to requests from the public to change or imple-
ment practices, the CFI urged a careful assessment of the group
making the request in order to determine whether the interlocu-
tor was interested in “positive interaction” or “just agitating” and in
order to distinguish between groups that are “genuinely interested
232 / Notes to Conclusion
in collaboration vs. just raising an issue to promote their agenda.”

Center for Food Integrity, “Optimizing Sustainability Project:
Responding to Requests.”
66. Center for Food Integrity, 2011 Consumer Trust Research, 17.
67. Ibid., 21–29.
68. Center for Food Integrity, “Inside the Minds of Influencers,”
4, 6–7.
69. Ibid., 6–9.
70. Center for Food Integrity, “Connecting with Consumers in a
Post-Truth Tribal World: What Makes Food Information Credible?,”
2017 Consumer Trust Research.
71. Ibid.
72. Ibid.
73. Ibid.
74. Freidberg, French Beans, 169, 209.
CONCLUSION
1. For more about the outsized role protein innovation plays in

the agri-food tech sector, see Julie Guthman and Charlotte Biltekoff,
“Agri‑Food Tech’s Building Block: Narrating Protein, Agnostic of
Source, in the Face of Crisis,” BioSocieties 18 (2022): 656–78. Select
media about Impossible Foods: Emiko Terazono and Leslie Hook,
“Impossible Foods Raises $500m During Turmoil,” Financial Times,
March 17, 2020; Jessica Glenza, “Inside the Impossible Burger: Is
the Meat-Free Mega Trend as Good as We Think?,” The Guardian,
March 14, 2019; Matt Simon, “The Impossible Burger: Inside the
Strange Science of the Fake Meat That ‘Bleeds,’” Wired, September
20, 2017; Nivedita Balu, “Impossible Foods Raises $200 Million in
Fresh Funding,” Reuters, August 13, 2020; Monica Burton, “Achiev-
ing the Impossible,” Eater, June 26, 2019; “Impossible Foods Raises
$500 Mln in Funding Round Led by Mirae,” Reuters, November 23,
2021. Research referenced in this section was conducted as part of
the UC AFTeR Project. Details are in the introduction.
2. Impossible Foods, “Heme + the Science Behind Impossible,”
https://impossiblefoods.com/heme.
Notes to Conclusion / 233
3. Heme—The Magic Ingredient in the Impossible Burger. Video

available on the Impossible website, https://impossiblefoods.com
/heme, and its YouTube channel, https://www.youtube.com/watch?
v=n6U4H8WC9jg.
4. Marris, “The Construction of Imaginaries.”
5. On technofixes, see Michael Huesemann and Joyce Huesse-
mann, Techno-Fix: Why Technology Won’t Save Us or the Environ-
ment (Gabriola Island, BC: New Society Publishers, 2011); Sean F.
Johnston, “Alvin Weinberg and the Promotion of the Technological
Fix,” Technology and Culture 59, no. 3 (2018): 620–51. On agri-food
tech’s technofixes, see Biltekoff and Guthman, “Conscious, Compla-
cent, Fearful”; Guthman et al., “In the Name of Protein;” Guthman,
The Problem with Solutions.
6. Freidberg, French Beans. Garrett Broad and I explore the
way evolved communication approaches like those promoted by
the CFI have been taken up by cellular meat proponents, calling the
deficit thinking they employ “deficit model 2.0.” Broad and Biltekoff,
“Food System Innovations, Science Communication, and Deficit
Model 2.0.”
7. Burri, “Imaginaries of Science and Society;” Center for Food
Integrity, 2011 Consumer Trust Research, 5.
8. Ferguson, The Anti-Politics Machine; Guthman et al., “In the
Name of Protein.”
9. Biltekoff and Guthman, “Conscious, Complacent, Fearful.”
10. Ibid. Like those in the conventional food industry, these
companies conduct consumer and sensory research after the
technology has already been developed to test and refine product
formulations and marketing approaches. But there is an important
distinction between “end of pipe” and “up-front engagement.” See
Lowe, Phillipson, and Lee, “Socio-Technical Innovation for Sustain-
able Food Chains.”
11. Madeleine Fairbairn, Zenia Kish, and Julie Guthman,
“Pitching
Agri-Food Tech: Performativity and Non-Disrup-
tive
Disruption in Silicon Valley,” Journal of Cultural Economy,
15, no. 5 (2022): 652–70, Julie Guthman and Charlotte Biltekoff,
“Magical Disruption? Alternative Protein and the Promise of
234 / Notes to Conclusion
De-Materialization,” Environment and Planning E: Nature and Space

4, no. 4 (2020): 1583–600; Julie Guthman, “The CAFO in the Bioreac-
tor: Reflections on Efficiency Logics in Bio-Industrialization Present
and Future,” Environmental Humanities 14, no. 1 (2022): 71–88;
Emily Reisman, “Sanitizing Agri-Food Tech: COVID-19 and the Poli-
tics of Expectation,” Journal of Peasant Studies 48, no. 5 (2021): 910–
33; Garrett M. Broad, “Plant-Based and Cell-Based Animal Product
Alternatives: An Assessment and Agenda for Food Tech Justice,”
Geoforum 107 (2019): 223–26.
12. Broad, “Plant-Based and Cell-Based Animal Product Alterna-
tives,” 225.
13. Broad and Biltekoff, “Food System Innovations, Science
Communication, and Deficit Model 2.0.”
14. Wynne, “Public Engagement.”
15. Ibid., 219.
16. Ibid., 212.
17. Ibid., 216.
18. Ibid., 219.
19. Ibid., 220.
20. Li, The Will to Improve, 10.
21. Ferguson says development interventions “may effectively
squash political challenges to the system.” Li takes a different
approach when it comes to the accomplishment of antipolitics; her
purpose is to draw attention to “the gap between attempted and
accomplished.” Ferguson, The Anti-Politics Machine, 171; Li, The Will
to Improve, 1.
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INDEX
activism, 5–8, 41, 57, 61, 114, 188, alternative protein, 30, 99fig.,
191, 206n58; and ecological food 180–88
movement, 46–48, 127; and American Association for the
genetic engineering, 30, 222n9 Advancement of Science, 82
advocacy, 3, 20–22, 41, 53, 61, 69, American Bakers’ Association
91, 188, 191, 225n39; c onsumer, (ABA), 132
26, 121, 131–32 American Farm Bureau
affordability, 41, 44, 75, 88–89, Federation, 29, 148
91–92, 115, 172, 189, 214n84, American Farmers for the
219n65 Advancement and C onservation
agriculture, 18, 25, 41, 65, 150, 156, of Technology (AFACT), 65
196, 215n5; alternative, 22, 46, American Frozen Food
48, 207n58; animal, 149, 162, Institute, 65
180–81; industrial, 19, 29, 55, 60, American Humane Society, 171
148, 159–61, 164–65, 189; and American Meat Institute, 65
naturalness, 120, 123, 125, 134, American Medical Association, 142
138–42; and technology, 1, 5, 8, American Nutrition Association,
56–59, 64–66, 75, 94, 154, 172 225n39
agri-food tech sector, 29–30, 180–88, American Society of Nutrition, 65
196, 220n73, 233n6, 233n10 American Soybean Association, 65
Alliance to Feed the Future, 3, American Studies, 4
24–25, 144; curriculum, 75–86, animal welfare, 5, 22, 88, 123, 126,
78fig., 92–103; vs. Food, Inc., 2, 150, 159–61, 168–70, 174, 188
24–25, 64–67, 85–87 antibiotics, 55, 117, 119, 154, 162
255
256 / Index
antipolitics, 17–18, 28, 30, 86–87, biomedical health, 50, 97

101, 103, 193–94, 234n21; and biopolitics, 102
CFI, 13–15, 149, 158, 160, 172–74, biotechnology, 2, 5–8, 17, 22, 56, 59,
179–80; and natural labels, 114, 96, 206n58, 207n58; and n atural
143, 191 labels, 118–19, 123–24, 127,
antiscience, 5, 11–13, 16–18, 31, 138–42, 225n39. See also genetic
61–62, 114, 129–31, 176, 206n58 engineering
Arnot, Charlie, 146–47, 149, 151, Biotechnology Industry
156, 169, 228n15, 229n44 Association, 65
artificial ingredients, 4, 56, 60, Biotechnology Innovation
104–9, 114–17, 119–23, 125, Organization (BIO), 141–42
128, 206n58. See also s ynthetic Birchall, Claire, 163
ingredients blame frames, 40–42, 49, 98
authority, 7, 9, 90, 127, 129–31, blogs, 32–34, 33fig., 44, 115
134–35, 138, 147, 163; and bodies, 40, 42, 59, 72, 85, 87, 92, 97,
expertise, 15, 39–40, 47, 49, 101, 131
101–2. See also expertise; brands, 111–12, 118, 144, 148, 169,
scientific authority 175. See also individual brands
Brazil, 51
bad food, 3, 22–23, 36, 42, 48, Brazilian Ministry of Health, 53
107, 115 Broad, Garrett, 188
balance, 2, 65, 98, 100–101, 102fig., Brown, Pat, 181
148–49, 152, 153fig., 171–74, 176 Brownell, Kelly, 41, 44–45; Food
banana, all natural, 32–33, 33fig., 63 Fight, 147
Barlow, Zenobia, 67 Bunge Oil, 110
Bayer, 29 Burri, Regula Valérie, 66
Beck, Ulrich, 55
Belasco, Warren, 38, 47, 127 California, 1–2, 91, 108
Ben and Jerry’s, 108 California Center for Public
benefits: of processed food, 2, 21, Health, 91
36, 52, 63–65, 73–79, 83–85, 96, California League of Food
98, 193; of “natural” label, Processors, 1
120–21; of technology, 13, 55, Calorie Control Council, 65
154–55, 213n66, 190 calories, 41, 44, 54, 65, 92, 100–101,
Berenstein, Nadia, 113 110, 113; bad, 88, 91
Berry, Wendel, 47–48 Campbell Soup Company, 29
Best Food Facts, 148–49 cancer, 37
biases, 139, 154–57, 162, 164–65 Canned Food Alliance, 65
Big Food, 45, 54, 144, 147, 165, 167, canning industry, 20, 206n58
169, 172 cardiovascular diseases, 6, 37
Big Tobacco, 44–45, 73, 147 Cargill, 25, 29, 149, 215n5
biochemistry, 181 Center for Ecoliteracy, 64, 67
Index / 257
Center for Food Integrity (CFI), 27, tech, 182–88; and CFI, 27–28,
144, 146–47, 149; m embership 144–47, 149, 1 51–58, 165–80,
of, 29, 208n67, 227n13; and 231n65; and curricula, 24, 66,
moveable m iddle, 172–79, 69; and Engage training, 158–
231n65; and public trust, 62, 173; and naturalness, 108–9,
150–57; and shared values, 112, 191
157–62; training, 28, 145, competence, 150–53, 153fig., 229n45
148, 159–63, 169–73; and ConAgra, 29, 108
transparency, 162–72 confined animal feeding
Center for Food Safety, 21 operations (CAFOs), 88
Center for Science in the Public consumer food movements, 5–7,
Interest, 108 19, 104–5
chemicals, 22, 52, 55, 58–62, 110, consumer guides, 58, 60
119, 126; and chemophobia, Consumer Reports, 139; Consumer
32–34, 63, 115–16; and c urricula, Reports National Research
77–79, 80fig., 81fig., 82fig.; and Center, 119; Consumers Union,
processing, 53, 122–23, 128, 119, 122–24, 138
135, 148 consumer research, 104–6, 109–18,
Chick-fil-A, 149 121–26, 132, 138–39, 234n10
children, 18, 40–41, 59–60, 115, 190 consumers, 190, 217n30; active,
chronic diseases, 37–38, 102 24, 66, 68–69, 86, 92, 103; and
citizenship, 18, 37–39, 118, 122, agri-food tech, 181–83, 186–87;
147, 173; and food systems and Alliance curriculum, 24, 66,
participation, 24, 66–75, 86, 92, 75, 86, 93, 96, 103; and CFI, 148,
103, 138, 143, 170, 189 150, 153–55, 158–62, 165–67, 173,
Citrus World, 137 229n44; and FDA natural,
clean labels, 25, 104–18, 175, 182 121–42; and Food, Inc.
climate change, 31, 157, 181, 185–86 curriculum, 71–74, 89; and food
Clydesdale, Fergus, 116 risks, 59–60; and naturalness,
Coalition for Sustainable Egg 26, 106–21; and neoliberalism,
Production, 171 56–57; and processed foods, 6, 53
Coca-Cola, 25, 215n5 convenience, 44, 47, 77, 88, 93,
color additives, 34, 58, 60, 63, 96–98, 176
79–80, 105–7, 110, 114–17, 183, corn industry, 20–21, 67, 72, 88,
206n58 90–91, 108, 148, 171
commercial imaginary, 66–67, 75, Corn Refiners Association, 20–21
86, 103 corporations, 19, 45, 72, 89, 121,
commodity groups, 65, 148 144, 148–49; and labels, 124–28,
Common Core standards, 77, 85, 93 130, 134–39, 142, 225n39; and
communicable diseases, 37–38 public trust, 150–57; and
communication strategies, 19, 25, transparency, 162–72. See also
56, 136, 190, 194; and a
gri-food individual corporations
258 / Index
Corteva Agriscience, 29 ecological food movement,

Costco, 29, 148 46–54, 189; and n eoliberalism,
Council for Biotechnology 36–43
Information, 65 diseases, 6, 37–38, 87, 91, 96, 98,
Council for Responsible Nutrition, 102, 126
65, 137–38 DuPont, 29, 149
countercuisine, 47, 127
COVID-19 pandemic, 17, 30 early adopters, 174–75
Crawford, Robert, 37 eating right, 23, 36–37, 39, 49, 54,
critical thinking, 68, 74, 76 61, 189
Critser, Greg, Fat Land, 41–42 E. coli, 88–90, 219n65
Cropp Cooperative, 124 ecological food movements, 41,
curricula, 2–3, 18–19, 24–25. 46–54, 217n30
See also Alliance to Feed the economic issues, 41, 88–89, 91,
Future; Food, Inc. (film), 137, 172; and health, 38, 44, 48,
Discussion Guide 52; and scientific knowledge,
22, 69–70, 76, 94, 141, 158–59,
Dairy Farmers of America, 29, 148 174; and technology, 5, 7, 57,
dairy industry, 29, 43, 65, 137–38, 186–87
148, 171 Education Center of Greensboro,
Danone, 25, 215n5 North Carolina, 65–66
data analysis, 23, 26–27, 121 efficiency, 10, 56, 77, 115, 140
decision making, 16, 39, 167, 169, emotions, 4, 8, 13, 31, 77, 154–55,
179; and the public, 66, 145, 172, 176; and natural labels, 127,
154–57, 156fig. 129, 140, 142
deficit model of the public entrepreneurs, 30, 180, 186–87
understanding of science, 10, environmental groups, 57, 59
12–16, 28, 62, 76, 113, 155, 192, environmental impacts, 7–9,
229n38, 233n6. See also d eficit 56–57, 61, 147, 151; and a gri-food
thinking tech, 181, 188; and CFI, 159, 161,
deficit thinking, 10, 12–16, 23, 62, 170; and c urricula, 88–89;
190; and agri-food tech, 30, and n aturalness, 47, 113–14,
233n6; and CFI, 28, 146, 154–55, 122–23, 126
157, 161, 167, 177, 179, 229n38; Environmental Protection Agency
and consumers, 113–17, 132–33, (EPA), 57
139, 142; and scientism, 76–77, Environmental Working Group
84–86, 140, 192–93 (EWG), 57
d’Entremont, Yvette (SciBabe), Enzyme Technical Association, 137
34–35, 61 epistemology, 13, 51, 77, 155, 203n20
DeSoucey, Michaela, 114 Euromonitor International, 106
diabetes, 6, 37, 85, 91 European Union (EU), 57
dietary health, 23, 25, 87; and exercise, physical, 37–38, 40, 44,
curricula, 89–90, 98, 103; and 100–101
Index / 259
expertise, 3, 22, 34, 39, 87, 187, natural labels, 26–27, 107, 116,
216n18; and antipolitics, 14–15, 118–42, 190, 224n31. See also
101, 191, 194; and CFI, 28, policy; regulations
146, 151, 157, 172, 178–79; and food groups, 52, 98, 99fig.
curricula, 67, 69, 74, 98, 103; food industry representatives,
and ecological food movement, 20–21, 41–42, 189; and Engage
46–47, 49; and food policy, 9, 26, training, 157–62; and imagined
119; and natural labels, 127–29, public, 1–6, 13, 16, 18–19, 23; and
131, 133–34, 141; and public public understanding, 11, 15,
concern, 6, 16, 18, 117, 193; and 62, 190
risks, 55–56, 62, 150. See also Food Marketing Institute, 148
scientific authority food origins, 18–19, 24, 107, 120,
135, 139, 159, 182; in Alliance
factories, 71, 88, 90 curriculum, 92–103; in Food,
FACTS Network (Food A dvocates Inc. curriculum, 87–92, 217n23
Communicating through
Food Processing, 26, 104, 109,
Science), 4, 19
115–16
Fairhead, James, 35
Food Processing Expo,
familiarity, 30, 32, 77–79, 94,
Sacramento, 1, 24
114–15, 174, 181–85, 189–90
Food Quality Protection Act
Farm Bureau Federation (FBF), 140
(FQPA), 57
Farm Credit, 65
food safety, 18, 35, 183, 190–91; and
farming, 5, 24, 47–48, 123–24, 126,
Alliance curriculum, 75, 77–78,
140, 147–48, 150, 159, 161, 190;
84–85, 97–98, 219n65; and CFI,
and curricula, 69, 71, 74–77, 82,
150–51, 160–62, 174; and Food,
88, 92–97
Inc., 64, 74, 89–90; and natural
fast food, 41–42, 48, 64, 91–92,
foods, 122, 127, 136, 140–42
217n23
fat content, 38, 91 food science, 2, 4, 26, 65, 113,
fear, public. See irrational thinking 115–16; public concerns about,
Feingold hypothesis, 115 36, 49–50, 142, 144, 191, 194,
Ferguson, James, 13–15, 213n66
194, 234n21 food scientism, 11–14, 80–81,
fiber, 10, 84–85, 110, 218n46 184–85; of Alliance c urriculum,
flavor, 110, 115, 117, 135 24, 84, 102–3; anti-, 130–31, 194;
food, meaning of, 86–88, 92–93, and CFI, 150–54, 158, 168; and
102–3 deficit thinking, 76, 189–91, 193;
Food, Inc. (film), 163; vs. Alliance and ecological food movement,
curriculum, 2, 24–25, 64–67, 94, 50–51, 62; and natural labels,
97–98, 103; Discussion Guide, 119, 132, 135, 138, 141–42; and
67–75, 86–92, 104 risk, 16–18, 35, 139, 168, 190,
Food and Drug Administration 206n58, 214n73
(FDA), 57–58, 71, 79, 181; and food studies, 3
260 / Index
Food Technology, 26, 29, 109, 111, governance, 5, 16, 66, 70, 103, 143
114, 116 government, 27, 147; and dietary
food wars thesis, 8 guidelines, 50, 53, 98; and
fortification, 10, 84–85, 137–38, regulation, 40–41, 55, 57, 71–72,
140, 218n46 130; and subsidies, 88, 90–92
frames, 7–8, 86–87, 103, 203n13, Grocery Manufacturers
203n20; blame frames, 40–42, 49, Association (GMA), 41, 45, 118,
98; and food s ystem q uestions, 123, 137–38, 148
9–10, 12, 31. See also Real Facts Grupo Bimbo, 29, 149
frame; Real Food frame Gussow, Joan Dye, 9, 35, 47, 50, 67,
Friedberg, Susanne, 164, 179 84, 218n46
Frito Lay, 108 Guthman, Julie, 48, 123, 206n58
front groups, 21, 27
frozen foods, 65, 67, 96, 99fig., 100, Hansen, Anders, 127, 129
113, 135 Hari, Vani (Food Babe), 33–34
fruits, 43, 58, 60, 98, 99fig., 100 harmful foods, 23, 33–34, 38–39,
Fukushima nuclear meltdown, 18 45, 55–57, 60, 161, 189
Fusaro, David, 116–17 Hartman, Lauren R., 104–5
Future Food Tech Summit, San Hartman Group, 106
Francisco, 180–81 health, individual, 7, 37–39, 61,
futures, food system, 17–18, 67, 70, 89, 190; and curricula, 87,
126, 186–87 91–92, 97
health, meaning of, 37–48
Gawker, 33–34 health, public, 44–45, 70, 171,
Generally Recognized as Safe 188; and curricula, 88–89, 103;
(GRAS), 58, 181 and neoliberalism, 37, 40; and
General Mills, 25, 105, 109, 215n5 NOVA, 51–54; and p rocessed
genetic engineering, 30–31, 56, 59, food, 6–7, 113; and regulations,
70, 94, 104, 119, 146, 148, 206n58; 57–59, 136–37
and GMO concerns, 8, 13, 17, HealthFocus International, 107,
122, 125, 139, 153–54, 161–62, 111–12
168, 175; and Impossible Foods, healthy food, 44–48, 74, 90–92,
181–83, 186; and naturalness, 219n65; and naturalness, 109,
108, 127–30, 135, 140–42. See 114–15, 120; processed, 53, 63,
also biotechnology 66, 97–98, 114–15, 191
Germany, 66 Heasman, Michael, 8
global food needs, 13, 94–96, 184, Heiss, Sarah, 20
186, 189 heme, 181–88
good food, 5, 44, 63, 104, 114; and Hershey’s, 149
ecological food movement, Hess, David, 135
46–54; as real, 15, 18, 22–24, high fructose corn syrup, 108,
61–62, 189 116, 135
Index / 261
Horgen, Katherine Battle, Food Journal of Bioethical Inquiry, 80

Fight, 44 Juice Products Association, 136–37
hormones, 119, 123
Kellogg’s, 109
ignorance, 3, 11, 31, 61, 75, 191 Kennedy, James, 32–33, 33fig., 35,
Impossible Foods, 30, 180–88, 61, 63
182fig., 184figs., 185figs. Kideckel, Michael, 127
Indonesia, 14 Kimura, Aya H., 18
industrial food system, 11, 16, Kinchy, Abby, Seeds, Science, and
46, 136, 160, 165, 183; concerns Struggle, 17, 206n58
about, 3, 5, 9, 19, 24, 36, 55, 77, knowledge politics, 4, 6, 9–10, 31,
114, 150; impacts of, 7, 39, 41, 71, 188, 192. See also deficit
48–49, 53, 60–61, 63, 88, 159, 189 thinking; public u nderstanding;
inequality, 8, 56, 114 scientific knowledge
ingredient companies, 110–11, 137 Korthals, Michiel, 86–87, 92, 103
Ingredion, 111 Kraft Foods, 34, 105, 108–9, 115, 117
Innova Market Insight, 105, 107, Kroger, 29, 148
109, 111
innovation, 57, 86, 140–41, 192, labels, food, 25, 59–60, 72, 79, 101,
206n58; and agri-food tech, 104–20; clean, 122–25, 130, 132,
29–30, 180–88; and CFI, 154, 137–41, 168, 175, 182
168–69, 174, 180; promotion of, 2, laboratories, 128–29
17, 77, 78fig., 105, 145, 154 Lang, Tim, 8
Innovation Center for U.S. Dairy, 171 Leach, Melissa, 17, 35
Institute of Food Technologists legal issues, 16, 25, 58, 72, 74, 94,
(IFT), 2 147, 152; and naturalness, 107–8,
International Dairy Foods 116, 118, 141
Association, 65, 137–38 Lezaun, Javier, 173
International Food Additives Li, Tania, 14–15, 193, 234n21
Council, 65 life-science integrated paradigm, 8
International Food Information lifeworlds, 7–10
Council (IFIC), 1–5, 21, 25, 63–65, lobbying, 20–21, 39, 43, 45, 59,
75, 215n5 119, 148
International Life Sciences local, supporting, 47–48, 114,
Institute (ILSI), 25 123, 159
Iowa State University, 149 Look East, 148
irrational thinking, 173, 207n58; LycoRed, 110
and fear, 4, 16, 23, 33–35,
61–62, 186, 189–91, 213n66; and MacKendrick, Norah, 56–57, 59–60,
natural foods, 114–15, 127, 129, 206n58, 214n84
132, 139–43, 159 macroscopic views, 47, 50–51, 53
Irwin, Alan, 146, 169 Maple Leaf Foods, 149
262 / Index
March for Science, 31 National Chicken Council, 171

marketing, 20, 42–44, 51–53, National Geographic: “War on
148, 157, 163–64, 234n10; and Science” series, 4
labelling, 110–18, 123–24; National Organic Coalition, 125
and naturalness, 106–9, 1 26–27, National Organic Program
131, 136, 143 (NOP), 123
Marris, Claire, 11, 16, 136, 166 National Pork Board, 29
Mayes, Christopher, 80, 101 National Research Council, 82
meat industry, 43, 88–92, 97, 139, National Restaurant
147–48, 181 Association, 137
media coverage, 64, 147; and CFI, National Science Foundation,
28–29, 144–45, 158, 226n1; 30, 209n71
and clean labels, 108–11, National Science Teachers
114, 143; and ecological food Association, 82
movements, 47–49; of genetics National Seasoning
and biotechnology, 1 27–28; and Manufacturers Association, 136
obesity e pidemic, 41, 43; and National Soft Drink
u ltra-processed foods, 53–54 Association, 45
Mendelez International, 25, 215n5 National Turkey Federation, 137
methodology of book, 22–31 Natural Marketing Institute, 126
Michigan State University, 149 naturalness, 19, 77–79, 128–30,
Miller, Laura, 127 140, 222n9; and all-natural
misinformation, 168, 213n66, banana, 32–33, 33fig.; and
220n67, 229n45; and IFIC, 1, 4, 6, Impossible Foods, 181–82,
75, 77; and Real Facts, 13–14, 35, 182fig., 185; and marketplace,
61, 114, 131–32, 176; s usceptibility 25–26, 107–8; vs. organic foods,
to, 143, 155, 189, 191 119–21, 123–26, 132, 138; and
misunderstanding, public, 21, processed foods, 104–6, 111,
146, 185, 189; and Alliance 123–27; and s cience-based
curriculum, 85, 220n67; and reason, 131–42, 191
natural labels, 108, 119–22, 126, negative nutrition, 38–39
131–32, 140, 142; and Real Facts, Nelson, Willie, 147
16, 25, 191–94, 213n66 neoliberalism, 8, 37–38, 40, 56
Mol, Annemarie, 87 Nestle, 109
Monsanto, 29, 72, 149 Nestle, Marion, Food Politics,
Monteiro, Carlos, 51–54 41–44
morality, 8, 16, 37, 163, 173, 177 New York University, 42
motherhood, 59–61, 90–92, 175–76 Next Generation Science
Munro, William, 7 Standards, 65, 80–82, 84–85
MyPlate dietary guide, 98, Non-GMO project, 59
99fig., 101 nonprofits, 1, 27, 59, 121, 144,
148, 215n5
nanotechnology, 66 Northern California League of
National Academy of Sciences, 142 Food Processors, 2
Index / 263
NOVA, 51–54, 213n66 policy, 8–9, 20, 30, 47, 66; and
nutrigenomics, 87 curricula, 70, 73–74, 85, 88–92,
nutritionism, 50, 101–2, 221n83 97; industry i nfluence on, 25,
nutrition science, 39, 42, 75, 189, 45, 56–57; and s cientism, 12–13,
206n58; and CFI, 151, 157, 174; 16, 76, 1 37–38, 141, 191. See also
critiques of, 47, 49, 53–54; and Food and Drug A dministration
curricula, 88, 97–101, 102fig., (FDA); regulations
103; and natural labels, 119–21, political imaginary, 66–67, 74,
136; and obesity epidemic, 87, 103
51–52; and processed foods, 6–7 politics, 15, 22, 30, 66, 74; of food,
14, 48, 88–89, 103, 106; of
obesity, 6, 21, 37, 61, 87–88, 117, 189, i nformation, 72–74, 167, 172;
210n12; and blame frame, 98, of naturalness, 125, 131, 139;
100, 147; as “epidemic,” 39–41; of risks, 55–56; and solutions,
and good food, 39–46; and 18, 186, 234n21; and values, 10,
ultra-processed foods, 51–53 178–79
ontology, 86–87, 220n67 Pollan, Michael, 41, 49–51, 54, 64,
Organic and Natural Health 71–73, 90–91, 147, 217n23
Association, 124–26, 225n39 pork industry, 147–48
Organic Consumers portions, 100–101
Association, 225n39 poultry industry, 71, 94, 171, 222n9
organic foods, 3, 5, 21, 33, 48, power, 47, 194; discursive, 5–9, 30,
59–60, 107, 113; vs. natural 35, 39–40, 59, 86, 107, 127–31; of
foods, 107, 119–21, 123–26, 132, food industry, 20–21, 25, 42–45,
137–38, 225n39 56, 61, 63–64; of i nstitutions, 16,
Organic Seed Growers and Trade 29, 70, 72–74, 164, 179, 186
Association, 125 precautionary principle, 57, 59–60,
Organic Trade Association (OTA), 214n84
124–25 preservatives, 55, 83–84, 105, 109,
115, 168
Panera, 109 processed foods, 50; and
paradigms, 8–10, 51, 126 curricula, 24, 75–77, 83–85,
Participant Media, 64 93–96, 95fig.; and FDA, 118–31;
participant observation, 30 and n aturalness, 104–7, 111,
PepsiCo, 25, 117, 215n5 131–41, 143; and NOVA, 51–54;
personal responsibility, 37–38, promotion of, 1–2, 16, 21–22,
40–42, 45–46, 48, 87, 91–92, 65, 83, 159, 162, 1 90–91; public
97–98, 101, 103 concerns about, 3–7, 51–61,
pesticides, 21, 56–57, 96, 114, 119, 97, 103, 148–50, 175, 188–90,
122–23, 126 193–94; and technology, 10–14,
Pew Charitable Trust, 58 48, 72, 75
Pilgrim’s Pride, 222n9 product development, 25, 104, 106,
Pizza Hut, 109 109, 115, 117
pleasure, 48, 88, 96, 98 productivity, 8, 56, 140, 151
264 / Index
Professor G.U. Eatwell, 65, 81, Real Food frame, 7–10, 13–14, 35,
83fig., 85, 94, 190 87, 102, 188–91, 193, 203n20; and
profit, 52, 57, 70, 89, 109, 164, bad food, 36, 53; and CFI, 145,
165fig., 166–67 154, 159, 163–64, 170; and clean
Progresso tomatoes, 112 labels, 104–7, 109, 111–12, 114;
pseudoscience, 34 and curricula, 24, 67, 71, 75, 88;
public good, 8, 43, 135–40, 154, and Food, Inc., 64, 98, 104; and
164–66, 182 good food, 15, 18, 22–23, 61–63;
Public Health Nutrition, 51 and natural labels, 118, 121, 126,
publics, imagined, 31; and agri 131, 143; vs. processed foods, 56,
food-tech, 30, 180, 1 87–88; and 60, 94, 161
CFI, 28, 179; and c urricula, recreancy theorem, 149–51
66–67, 74–75, 86, 103; and regulations, 41, 45, 141, 152; and
food industry, 1–6, 13, 16, consumers, 133, 143, 161, 189;
18–19, 143, 189, 192–93; and and curricula, 71, 89, 97; laxity
misinformation, 34–35, 114 of, 7, 56–61, 72, 88; of natural
public understanding of s cience, foods, 19, 26–27, 109, 118–21,
21, 23, 35; and CFI, 156–57, 126; of organic foods, 123–25.
176–79; and Impossible Foods, See also Food and Drug
181–83, 185–86; and natural Administration (FDA); policy
labels, 119, 131–33, 141; and Real rendering technical, 14–15, 106,
Facts, 10–13, 15–16, 36. See also 186, 193
misunderstanding, public; research, 22, 43, 45, 141–42, 162,
scientific knowledge 207n58; and CFI, 150–51, 162,
public understanding of science 228n15; corporate, 61, 170–72,
flip, 11 207n58; and ultra-processed
Purdue, 149 foods, 51, 53–54
Purdue University, 149 responsibility: consumer, 56, 69,
purity, 32, 46, 55, 59–60, 72; corporate, 150–51, 160,
105–6, 113 192; personal, 37–38, 40–42,
45–46, 48, 87, 91–92, 97–98,
raw foods, 87–98, 116, 120, 135, 180 101, 103
Real Facts frame, 7–10, 22–23, 87, risk, 20, 39, 84, 87, 112, 151; and
203n20; and antipolitics, 14, processed foods, 55–61; and
18, 103, 191, 193–94; and CFI, public concerns, 7, 17, 142, 150;
145, 153, 158, 161, 167, 176, 179; and scientism, 16–18, 35, 139,
and curricula, 24, 67, 69, 76–77, 168, 190, 206n58, 214n73
84–85; and IFIC, 3–4; and imag- Rogers, Everett, 174
ined public, 16–17, 34–36, 61–62; Roosevelt, Theodore, 152
and natural labels, 26, 116, 127, Rudd Center for Food Policy and
129–42; and scientism, 11–13, Obesity, 44
28, 30, 119, 143 Rural Sociology, 29, 149
Index / 265
Sacramento, California, 1 scientization, 17–18, 214n73

Saguy, Abigail, 40, 203n13 Scoones, Ian, 17
salt content, 38, 43, 91 Scrinis, Gyorgy, 49, 51, 101, 221n83
San Francisco Bay Area, 186 secrecy, 60, 64, 72, 113, 163, 179
Sapp, Stephen, 149 7-Up, 108
Sara Lee Corporation, 119 shared values, 28, 145, 152–53,
saturated fats, 43 156–61, 172, 178–79, 186, 190
Schiefler, David, 114 Shelf Stable Food Processors
Schlosser, Eric, 71–73; Fast Food Association, 65
Nation, 41, 64 Silk soymilk, 113
Schmidt, David, 1–3, 24, 75 Smithfield, 149
Schurman, Rachel, 7 Snack Foods Association, 65
Science and Technology Studies social food movements, 5, 19,
(STS), 11, 15, 146, 203n20 46, 71
science communication, 6, 28–29 social license, 152–53, 169, 186
Science Communication, 29 Society for Nutrition Education, 9
science-society relations, 66–67, Socratic discussions, 68, 74
74–75, 103, 146, 187, 191, 193 Soneryd, Linda, 173
scientific authority, 31, 55, 85, South Africa, 14
189–91, 194; and ecological food soybean industry, 88, 91, 104, 108,
movements, 46, 51; and food 110, 113, 148
scientism, 11–12, 14, 17; and Spurlock, Morgan: Super Size
natural labels, 127, 132, 134, Me, 42
136, 140; and obesity, 39, 42, Starbucks, 29, 34
44–46; and the public, 5–6, 11, Stanford University, 181
25, 36, 117–18, 121, 145; and Strathern, Marilyn, 163
Real Food, 23–24, 62. See also subsidies, 41, 88, 90–92
authority; expertise Sugar Association, 20, 119,
scientific knowledge, 34, 192; 133, 135
and biotechnology, 8, 30; and sugar content, 34, 38, 43, 54, 91,
CFI, 158–59, 169, 174, 176–78; 110, 178
and curricula, 66, 72–77, Super Advanced Natural Taste
80–85, 97; and food industry Enhancer (SANTE), 110
organizations, 1–7, 171–72; and Surgeon General, 40
natural labels, 127, 1 29–31, 138; sustainability, 39, 48, 64, 68, 73,
and the p ublic, 5–6, 8, 28, 31, 112, 126, 142, 189, 206n58; and
45–46, 62, 1 12–13, 116, 190. CFI, 148, 170–71, 173; and
See also public understanding Impossible Foods, 182–83
scientism, 11–12, 16, 24, 28, 50, 76, synthetic biology, 11, 16, 136
81; attitudinal, 80; n utritional, synthetic ingredients, 7, 60, 105,
102. See also d eficit thinking; 107, 117, 125, 137–38
food scientism; scientization Sysco, 29
266 / Index
Taco Bell, 105, 109 United Nations Food and

taste, 20, 30, 53, 85, 97, 104, 110, Agricultural Organization, 142
181, 191 United Soybean Board, 148
Tate & Lyle, 110–11 University of California, Davis, 4,
technologies, new, 20, 191–92; and 171; Digital Scholarship Lab, 27
alternative protein, 180–88; University of California Agri-Food
and CFI, 154, 156, 162, 172, 174; Tech Research Project (UC
and curricula, 70, 75–79, 83–85, AFTeR Project), 30, 232n1
90, 94–96; and n atural labels, University of Massachusetts,
136–37, 140; and public concerns, Amherst, 116
16–17, 72, 86, 142–43, 145, 189; University of São Paolo, 51
and risks, 55–61 US Department of Agricultural
Thompson, Donald, 80, 101 Research Service, 171
tool kits, 2–4, 19 US Department of Agriculture
toxicity, 44, 119, 123, 126, 207 (USDA), 25, 39, 43, 45, 57, 71,
trade groups, 19–21, 25, 121; and 98, 123
CFI, 148–49; and natural labels, US Government Accountability
118, 127–28, 131–32, 134–40, 142; Office, 57
organic i ndustry, 124–26; and
the public, 26, 41, 45, 59, 65. vaccines, 30, 153–54
See also International Food values, 12, 39, 183, 186, 190; and
Information Council (IFIC) CFI, 28, 144–45, 151–53, 153fig.,
trans-fats, 110 155–58, 164–69, 1 71–72, 174, 178;
transparency, 19, 25, 29, 105; and consumer, 123, 126, 142, 176;
agri-food tech, 181–83, 186–87; and c urricula, 70, 85, 97
and CFI, 27–28, 145, 162–72, Varadan, Ranjani, 181
163fig., 178–79 vegetables, 43, 58, 60, 91–92, 96, 98,
Trump, Donald, 17, 30 99fig., 112
trust, public, 229n45; and CFI, vitamins, 38, 84, 125, 136–38
27–28, 144, 146–53, 153fig.,
155–56, 158–60, 162–68, Walmart, 73
172–79; and science, 13, 31, 76, Warner, Kenneth E., 45
142, 192 Watergate, 165
truth, 17, 30, 116, 153, 160, 176–77 Wegmans, 148
Tufts University, 54 Welsh, Ian, 12, 134
Tyson, 29, 117, 139, 222n9 wheat, 88, 91
whole foods, 49–50, 113
ultra-processed foods, 52–54, 61, Whole Foods Markets, 60, 215n88
2, 19 Williams, Raymond, 128
“Understanding Our Food willpower, 40–41, 44, 100
Communications Tool Kit,” 2, 19 women, 59–61, 81, 90–92, 154,
Unilever, 137 175–76, 183
Index / 267
workers, 71, 74, 89–90, 93–94, 114, Wynne, Bryan, 11–13, 16–17, 76–77,
151, 160, 171 85, 134, 141, 153–55, 167,
World Health Organization, 142 172, 192
World Public Health Nutrition
Association, 51 Yale University, 44
worldviews, 10, 35, 46, 101, 165
World Wildlife Fund, 149 Zeide, Anna, 20, 162
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In recent decades, many members of the public have come to see processed food
BILTEKOFF
as a problem that needs to be solved by eating “real” food and reforming the food
system. But for many food industry professionals, the problem is not processed
food or the food system itself, but misperceptions and irrational fears caused by
the public’s lack of scientific understanding. In her highly original book, Charlotte
Biltekoff explores the role that science and scientific authority play in food indus-
try responses to consumer concerns about what we eat and how it is made. As
Biltekoff documents, industry efforts to correct public misperceptions through
science-based education have consistently misunderstood the public’s concerns,

which she argues are an expression of politics. This has entrenched “food sci-
entism” in public discourse and seeded a form of antipolitics, with broad conse-
quences. Real Food, Real Facts offers lessons that extend well beyond food choice
and will appeal to readers interested in how everyday people come to accept or
reject scientific authority in matters of personal health and well-being.
“In this brilliant book, Charlotte Biltekoff deftly examines unexplored

dimensions of the food wars and ultimately offers more nuanced

thinking about science as the ultimate arbiter of fundamentally
political decisions—a difficult but necessary challenge in a ‘post-
truth’ world.”—Julie Guthman, author of The Problem with Solutions
“This is critical reading for scholars, consumers, and food industry

professionals alike.”—Anna Zeide, author of Canned PROCESSED FOOD AND THE POLITICS OF KNOWLEDGE
“In lucid, accessible prose, Biltekoff employs the frames of Real CHARLOTTE BILTEKOFF
Facts and Real Food to understand the twenty-first-century land-
scape of American food.”—Amy Bentley, Professor of Food Stud-
THE POLITICS OF KNOWLEDGE
PROCESSED FOOD AND
ies, New York University
Charlotte Biltekoff is Professor of American Studies and Food

Science and Technology and Darrell Corti Endowed Professor in
Food, Wine, and Culture, University of California, Davis. She is
author of Eating Right in America: The Cultural Politics of Food
and Health.
AN AHMANSON FOUNDATION BOOK IN HUMANITIES
U NIVERSIT Y OF CALIFORNIA PRES S | WWW.UCPRES S .EDU
A free ebook version of this title is available through

Luminos, University of California Press’s Open Access ISBN: 978-0-520-40097-9
publishing program. Visit www.luminosoa.org to learn more.
Cover design: Michelle Black. Cover illustration: iStock. 9 780520 400979

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REAL FOOD, REAL FACTS

“In this brilliant book, Charlotte Biltekoff deftly examines unexplored

REAL FOOD, REAL FACTS

“This is critical reading for scholars, consumers, and food industry

Charlotte Biltekoff is Professor of American Studies and Food

AN AHMANSON FOUNDATION BOOK IN HUMANITIES

U NIVERSIT Y OF CALIFORNIA PRES S | WWW.UCPRES S .EDU

A free ebook version of this title is available through

Cover design: Michelle Black. Cover illustration: iStock. 9 780520 400979

gratefully acknowledge the generous support of the Ahmanson

Foundation Endowment Fund in Humanities.

universit y of califor nia pr ess

© 2024 by Charlotte Biltekoff

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons (CC

Suggested citation: Biltekoff, C. Real Food, Real Facts:

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Biltekoff, Charlotte, author.

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2023054091

Introduction: Seeing Food Scientism

1. How Good Food Became “Real”

2. Real Food and Real Facts in the Classroom

3. Fighting for “Natural”

4. The Paradoxes of Transparency

Conclusion: Future Food Imaginaries of the Public

In February 2014 I was invited to be a lunchtime speaker at the Cal-

there were high levels of negative a

the Alliance put together its own educational curriculum for

to ­“communicate facts about modern food production,” “clear up

antiscience on the other. Instead, I ask what the processed food

same time, these movements were shaped by doubts about the

PROCESSED FOOD FR AMES

My analysis revolves around how different actors in the food sys-

consumers considered processed food the troubling product of a

of science and its role were important components of these con-

and the environment (mechanistic vs. holistic) and the role of

THE PUBLIC UNDERSTANDING OF SCIENCE FLIP

While this book explores the dynamics of the contest between

caused by ignorance and showing that more information does not

claims and assumptions about the primacy of scientific ways of

to die. He describes the deficit model as constantly “buried with

In accounting for how the food industry responded to the Real

among them was antipolitics. My analysis reveals an “antipoli-

on Ferguson’s work, Li notes that the process of translating “the

­seriously or to include it in decision making.39 Wynne, for exam-

becomes little to no reasonable ground for public refusal. My

occluding the bigger question at stake: “What kind of agriculture

STRUCTURE OF THE BOOK

food comes from. The next encounter, the focus of chapter 3,

focus on the efforts of such groups. Trade groups have histori-

While trade associations inherently blur the boundary

of the Real Food frame is that it emerged from several distinct

CHAPTERS AND METHODS

To draw out the political stakes of efforts to educate the ­public

Facts” occurred to me early in the process as I immersed myself in

­concerns about the industrial food system that also challenged

curriculum but primarily focusing on a close reading of the Food,

marketplace and highlighting the discursive theme of natural-

“natural,” I had support from the Digital Scholarship Lab (now

to “communicate facts about modern food production,” “clear up

seriously or to include it in decision making.39 Wynne, for exam-

To draw out the political stakes of efforts to educate the public

concerns about the industrial food system that also challenged

Figure 1. “Ingredients of an All-Natural Banana” teaches the

to dismiss the seriousness of the obesity epidemic, food industry

seriously reconsider placing “the authority of science above cul-

processed food as risky and added to growing skepticism about

by insisting on the importance of questions that could not be

Center of Greensboro, North Carolina, a producer of ready-to-use

mononitrate is vitamin B1.” It continued, “In fact, every food we

d iscloses the world of food in a particular way and structures there-