America's Politicized Holiday Dinner
The fight over dietary guidelines is just part of a broader trend: Government at every level wants a say in what Americans eat.
In recent weeks, U.S. Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. has promised that the forthcoming revised U.S. Dietary Guidelines—spearheaded by his agency alongside the Department of Agriculture—will be released in December. As the deadline approaches, holiday hosts could be feeling understandably queasy about how thoroughly food policy now intrudes on what we serve and how we eat.
The dietary guidelines are revised every five years, and they've seen their share of controversy. In the past few decades, the federal government scrapped the infamous food pyramid (which allegedly could be making a return) and has notoriously issued poor dietary advice on more than one occasion. In the 1980s, the federal government urged Americans to shift away from saturated fats and meat and toward carbs. Under the food pyramid—unveiled in 1992—Americans were further encouraged to eat less animal fats and consume copious amounts of bread and cereal. Americans did not get healthier, and obesity rates skyrocketed.
"It's not as if we're suddenly eating a lot of lentils and kale," Yale School of Medicine's David Katz told the Huffington Post back in 2017. "We replaced the fat with low-fat junk food."
Enter RFK Jr., who argues that America's food system is corrupt and "poisoning" Americans with hyper-processed additives. He advocates for increased saturated fat consumption—even recommending turkey deep-fried in beef tallow.
RFK Jr. has pledged that the new release will be only four to six pages long, as opposed to previous iterations that have run hundreds of pages—overlooking the fact that the current version includes a four-page consumer brochure alongside the full report. The collective backlash is already forming as we head into the holiday season, with one nutritionist predicting "substantial chaos." Progressives can't decide how to handle RFK Jr.'s approach—some of which they agree with, despite still largely opposing him.
All levels of American government are increasingly elbowing their way into a seat at our dinner tables. During his mayoral candidacy, New York City mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani argued for government-run grocery stores as an answer to food insecurity and affordability.
Beyond the economic folly of such an idea, government-run grocery stores would only further politicize food. A government that operates a grocery store is also a government that decides what food to stock on the shelves.
While urban progressives might feel comfortable letting the Mamdanis of the world make those decisions, would they feel the same about RFK Jr. or a future similar bureaucrat calling the shots on what Americans can eat?
In the past year, New York City progressives have also been busy pushing a bevy of other food-related policy initiatives. A recently introduced city council bill would require all restaurants in the city to add warnings to high-salt and high-sugar foods on their menus. This mandate has already been in place for larger chain restaurants in the city for years, despite scant evidence that such warnings change what anyone orders.
Red states have seen their share of politicized food controversy. Various parts of the Florida government are unable to decide whether they advise for or against raw milk. Florida, Texas, Alabama, and North Carolina, among other states, are also attempting to ban lab-grown meat products from being available to residents.
Several years ago, celebrity chef José Andrés declared: "Some of life's greatest bridges are built over simmering pots and shared plates…we open possibilities for understanding that transcend political divides." In 2025, it seems even a shared plate can't escape the reach of politics.
