The global food system is a complex and troubled landscape that requires urgent reform if we hope to ensure health and well-being in the years ahead. As illustrated in Stuart Gillispie’s upcoming book, Food Fight: From Plunder and Profit to People and Planet (scheduled for release in September 2025), this situation is dire, particularly as other global crises loom. Renowned figures like Chris Van Tulleken regard Gillispie’s work as “The essential food book of this year and years to come.” As Marion Nestle notes, Gillispie’s extensive experience in international nutrition over the past four decades gives him unique insight into the issues at hand. He opens with a poignant observation:
“The problem we face now is the simple fact that our global food system is an anachronism. In the last century it has performed miracles [1], but in this one it’s a source of jeopardy. We should not speak of reform and repair, because it’s not actually broken. The system we have is working just the way those who control it want it to work. For capitalism to sustain itself, it needs to generate (continually increasing) profit (through growth instead of development). And in 2025, after nearly fifty years of neoliberalism, the most profitable food system is the one that manufactures ultra-processed products which are marketed aggressively across the world.
Throughout Food Fight, Gillispie elucidates how:
The global food system has itself become a large part of the problem (of a persistent if well camouflaged colonialism from our perspective), having been captured by transnational corporations who profit from public ill-health while using an array of tactics to stop government (and the people, as they have any agency) from getting in their way.
The fundamental issue with our current food system is that people, regardless of their socio-economic status, find themselves both overfed and undernourished. This paradox gives rise to a worldwide obesity epidemic, even as malnutrition continues to afflict many. Research has shown that early-life undernutrition can have lasting physiological effects, increasing the risk of obesity later. Unfortunately, this cycle primarily benefits those who manufacture addictive, low-quality food products. Past discussions on this topic can be traced back to influential works like Fast Food Nation: The Dark Side of the American Meal (2001) by Eric Schlosser and Salt, Sugar, Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us (2014) by Michael Moss, along with significant contributions from Marion Nestle (pronounced “ne-sel”).
The first notable “food fight” may very well be represented by Nestlé, the Swiss corporation behind beloved products like the Kit-Kat. Henri Nestlé pioneered a milk substitute in 1867, but it was a century later that the company employed sales representatives masquerading as nurses in developing regions. This campaign aimed:
To promote formula foods as a replacement for breast milk. Mothers were provided with one free can when they left the hospital—a potentially lethal gesture. Many lived where water wasn’t safe, leading to contaminated preparation, diarrhea, dehydration, and often death. Bottles were not sterilized, and mothers tended to over-dilute the formula, resulting in inadequate nutrient absorption. Once introduced to formula, they were often unable to revert to breastfeeding.
Given these practices, it’s no surprise that the Nestlé Boycott, which started in 1977, persists to this day, albeit with limited impact. The consequences of Big Food’s actions are stark:
According to a 2018 study by the National Bureau of Economic Research (NBER), an estimated 10,870,000 infants died between 1960 and 2015 as a result of Nestlé baby formula being used by mothers in low and middle-income countries without clean water sources, with peak deaths reaching 212,000 in 1981. (See Mortality from Nestlé’s Marketing of Infant Formula in Low and Middle-Income Countries, pdf).
In 2024, a report by Swiss nonprofit Public Eye and IBFAN highlighted that Nestlé adds more sugar to baby food sold in lower- and middle-income countries compared to healthier versions marketed in affluent nations.
As Gillispie notes, the transition from this initial Food Fight to the later Fake Food Flood unfolded naturally. Baby formula is an ultra-processed food (UPF) that laid the groundwork for a range of processed “foods” now commonplace in supermarkets.
The NOVA system, created by Carlos Monteiro at the University of São Paulo, categorizes ultra-processed foods as follows:
- Group 1: Unprocessed or minimally processed foods (e.g., frozen vegetables)
- Group 2: Ingrediants like oils, butter, lard, sugar, and salt derived from Group 1 foods or sourced from nature through methods like pressing, refining, grinding, milling, or drying
- Group 3: Foods made by combining Group 2 ingredients with Group 1 foods (e.g., canned vegetables, sauces) [2]
- Group 4: Industrially manufactured food-like substances
Gillispie defines UPFs as “industrial foods wrapped in plastic, containing ingredients not found in a typical home. UPFs are formula foods for all ages.” [3] Food scientists concoct these products by manipulating sugar, salt, and fat to achieve the ideal taste and mouthfeel. These ultra-processed snacks often serve more as indulgences than as sustenance. Indeed, from personal experience, a Nabisco Pinwheel proves to be a perfect example of a synthetic “food-like” substance. While they may not nourish, they prove delicious.
Such reliance on UPFs allows manufacturers to alter their products in virtually limitless ways. Dominance over specific crops like maize, wheat, and soy poses no barrier for Big Food, as these crops—akin to oil and natural gas for plastic and fertilizer industries—can be transformed into a plethora of products, each varying in shape, color, taste, and texture, constrained only by the creativity and skill of food scientists. Consequently, UPFs become steeply profitable while societal costs—like environmental damage and health issues—are externalized. Notably:
In 2022, Nestlé admitted that most of its products are unhealthy and will likely remain so. By April 2024, 90% of shareholders at the annual general meeting in Lausanne voted to continue prioritizing unhealthy foods.
This might not be surprising. The notion of shareholder value propagated by Milton Friedman in a 1970 New York Times Magazine essay has morphed into an accepted norm: “growth must be pursued at all costs” even within a fragile ecosystem, challenging the belief that capitalism can genuinely be “reformed.”
This cycle is self-perpetuating. While UPFs drive the obesity epidemic, new medications like GLP-1 agonists—such as Ozempic and Wegovy—emerge to help affluent individuals lose weight. These users now crave protein-rich products in smaller portions to minimize gastrointestinal side effects, prompting the industry to innovate diets to cater to this newly minted market, which could reach 15 million individuals by 2030. In May 2024, Nestlé unveiled Vital Pursuit, a new line of high-protein frozen foods. ‘We want to be there for every moment of our consumers’ lives—today and in the future,” remarked Steve Presley, CEO of Nestlé North America.
In essence, UPFs have spurred an obesity epidemic globally, while GLP-1 medications offer a remedy for those who can afford them. These individuals, battling sociogenic obesity, now rely on high-protein UPF ready-to-eat “meals” to alleviate their gastrointestinal discomfort (the website name, “goodnes.com,” is quite the marvel). Ironically, these new offerings come from the original UPF manufacturers. This scenario exemplifies the modern capitalist model, functioning as an ever-expanding, self-reinforcing cycle of profit (where both the ice cream and cone symbolize UPFs).
The repercussions of our UPF cravings are extensive and damaging across the larger ecosystem. Our prevailing food system has created a grim landscape characterized by both food swamps and food deserts. A food desert refers to areas where access to healthy food is severely limited, while a food swamp is inundated with outlets selling calorie-dense, ultra-processed junk and fast food, often found in the same neighborhoods that form food deserts.
Food swamps burdening communities also come with severe environmental impacts:
Ultra-processed foods contribute to 30-50% of diet-related energy use, biodiversity loss, greenhouse gas emissions, land use, food waste, and water consumption. Between 1987 and 2018, emissions from UPFs surged by 245%. Nestlé’s emissions surpass those of its host country, Switzerland, by threefold. [5]
Two of the main environmental culprits within the UPF industry include palm oil and soy, components of the problematic industrial agriculture system. Palm oil boosts caloric content and stabilizes UPFs (due to the solid nature of saturated fats at room temperature). Over the last 50 years, over half of Indonesia’s virgin rainforest has been cleared for palm oil production. Meanwhile, soy is integral in livestock feed and contributes:
With over 40% protein, soy is ideal for bulk-feeding animals. Soy protein isolate also enhances ‘mouthfeel’ in UPFs, allowing products to be marketed as high in protein. In the UK, we consume over 60 kilograms of soy annually, much of it sourced from land cleared from the Amazon rainforest.
The three main environmental consequences of UPF production by Big Food include (1) the erosion of agrobiodiversity and soil health due to industrial practices focused on crops like wheat, soy, and maize; (2) the depletion of water resources for producing UPFs, including fizzy drinks and bottled water; and (3) plastic pollution. None of these challenges require further explanation, but the principal issue is foundational to how capitalism functions:
“Negative externality” reflects the impersonal economic language that describes the cost paid for capitalist growth—not by the employers, but by those unable to shield themselves from its consequences. These unintended consequences remain unaccounted for within consumer pricing. By overlooking these externalities, market prices become disconnected from the actual cost of food production. Thus, the production of healthier, sustainable foods becomes less profitable for farmers and food producers compared to unhealthy options that boast lower direct costs but greater adverse externalities.
Ultimately, our food systems are generating far more harm than they create good.
This predicament extends beyond just the food industry. However, according to Gillispie, Nil desperandum!—there is hope. The staggering costs tied to the current food system—approximately $15 trillion annually, which includes $11 trillion in health-related malnutrition costs—highlight a remarkable opportunity for transformative change. If we can effectively overhaul the system, even a conservative estimation of potential benefits is tremendous. This topic is thoroughly examined in The Economics of the Food System Transformation (2024, pdf).
The key question remains: how can this transformation be realized? Importantly, it’s crucial to note that the issue isn’t with business itself but rather the near monopoly exercised by a select few transnational corporations within neoliberal capitalism:
The term ‘private sector’ is too broad to be useful here; we must differentiate between small to medium-sized enterprises that could aid social change, and large corporations that derive their power from selling unhealthy food.
Moreover, public-private partnerships lack effectiveness due to the inherent conflicts of interest: for-profit corporations cannot genuinely engage in public governance while serving private interests.
This remains constant, just as it is for Big Philanthropy, which often manifests as modern colonialism. As global citizens, we must recognize the manipulative tactics employed by those with vested interests. Achieving this will necessitate disentangling money from our electoral processes, where financial power often equates to voting power. While the idea of establishing true democracy may seem far-fetched now, envisioning a system based on the principle of one citizen, one vote can guide our goals. A solution will not stem from the so-called private sector, which isn’t truly private or democratic.
Gillispie’s international outlook aligns with the gravity of this neocolonial crisis. Nonetheless, the resolution to these food fights won’t likely come from giants like Big Food or initiatives from Big Philanthropy, such as the Rockefeller/Gates Alliance for a Green Revolution in Africa (AGRA). Change must emerge from grassroots movements globally. Colonialism isn’t confined to the Global South; it is also evident in the Global North.
For instance, the agricultural landscape in Norfolk, home to most of the fresh produce in the UK, has been overtaken by Big Ag, essentially becoming a colony. The same holds true for regions in the American South, which has functioned as a colony since prior to the Civil War, along with the Midwest and Great Plains. In each scenario, agriculture serves the interests of Big Ag and Big Food over the local populace.
Ultimately, food cannot truly be “global.” Despite its commodification in international trade, it can only exist locally. If we focus our efforts on reviving local and regional cultures and food systems, addressing the issues created by a lucrative yet unhealthy global food system will become more manageable. Culminating in the decline of Big Food is a vision undeniably worth pursuing.
We must still identify sustainable and economically viable means of food production. [6] This can be approached through the frameworks presented by thinkers like Mariana Mazzucato in Mission Economy, who advocates for repairing rather than dismantling capitalism. Alternatively, Kate Raworth’s Doughnut Economics proposes balancing the needs of humanity with those of the planet. Others recommend adopting principles from visionaries like Herman Daly, favoring development towards a better quality of life over relentless growth that leads to crises.
Regardless of the approach, Food Fight serves as an essential starting point for planning a more sustainable future. The changes wrought by climate shifts and increasing attention to pressing needs will reshape our agricultural practices. Once again, eating will become an agricultural act, without reliance on sprawling industrial farms dependent on monocultures like maize, wheat, or soy.
Notes
[1] This refers primarily to successes such as the Green Revolution, which earned Norman Borlaug the Nobel Peace Prize in 1970. While successful by the standards of the 1960s, the Green Revolution’s overshadowing of indigenous agriculture by unaccountable transnational corporations was ultimately unsustainable—perpetuating colonialism under the guise of benevolence. Modern hybrid seeds failed to improve nutritional health while boosting output by conventional metrics.
[2] A food example in the Bronx: “Fresh Tomato & Basil,” a natural sauce in my pantry containing solely tomatoes, fresh basil, and garlic, counts as Group 3. It’s a satisfying purchase from a local Fresh Market, while standard sauces stocked with fillers and preservatives fall into NOVA Group 4.
[3] NOVA Group 4 encompasses fizzy drinks, packaged snacks, chocolates, ice cream, mass-produced breads, and ready-to-eat meals; these items dominate the aisles of American supermarkets and tend to be neither nutritious nor healthy.
[4] Many urban areas close to our building exist as food deserts; local convenience stores often offer only sugary drinks and UPFs, creating a crisis of malnourishment exacerbated by easy access to unhealthy options. The health consequences of this system extend to all demographics, from marginalized communities to affluent country clubs.
[5] As I read through Food Fight, I made sure to verify references cited, which seemed credible throughout. The environmental conclusions referenced can be explored here, here, and here.
[6] The goal should prioritize the profitability for farmers, grocers, ranchers, and transporters over the interests of shareholders and executives at conglomerates like Nestlé.
