Imagine waking up in a small house by a river. The sound of water trickling by as you open the window above your headboard. Walking outside, the sun is just clearing the low set trees on the horizon. Before you, on the other side of the river, a vast green rice field glows verdantly with the morning rays. Small flowers of every color rest on the riverbed, rustling with the breeze. On nearly every tree, something grows. You need only reach up and select what you will if you find yourself hungry. And along the winding road that passes the house, more grows. For something spicy, something sweet – just reach down for it. The river is stocked, and the land is fruitful. Everything you need is within arm’s reach of your house.
But amidst the vibrant color, something is out-of-place. In your hands appears a red cup filled with black and white speckled sand. Hot water mingles with the grains and the liquid turns brown. It’s your breakfast. You take a sip, and note it’s the least of the stimuli around you. But it’s warm, sweet, and dirt cheap.
In the middle of the Garden, a dystopian harbinger slithers in. And it speaks in a familiar voice. An enticing tone, sounding like a friend that offers an opportunity to live more comfortably, to make a higher rank… accessible.
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I spent 7 months this year living in a rural farming and fishing village on the Northern shore of Panay island, in the Philippines. Some people looked in on this and commented that I must feel so trapped – living an hour away from the nearest town, and 20 minutes on a motorcycle just to get to the main road. But I really never felt closed-off. In fact, it seemed that even with no phone or internet, I still couldn’t escape the far reaches of an ever-growing empire.
The voice that haunted me daily was that of the Nestle Corporation. Every morning, I drank Nescafe Instant Coffee with my family at breakfast. It was a cultural norm to get something hot and sugary in your stomach first thing when you woke up. Even my 7-year-old little brother had a Nescafe at breakfast. They’ve never had real coffee, but you can bet they’ve seen it on TV.
It may sound insane that I’ve chosen one conglomerate to call out in this post, but truthfully it was branded on the overwhelming majority of products consumed by this low-income community. They were completely embedded in the community.
If you’re not up to speed on Nestle, here’s a selective list of their scandals over the years:
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1970’s-1990s: Nestle’s instant formula (nicknamed “baby-killer”) was promoted in developing countries for mothers as a substitute for breastfeeding, said to be healthier and more modern. Massive infant deaths (unknown figure) because the formula was mixed with unclean drinking water, and instructions were distributed in English to non-native speaking or illiterate mothers. Not to mention the slew of other problems with its lack of nutritional content.
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2002, Colombia: 200 tons of Nestle milk formula are imported and relabeled as a local product, and production date is changed. They’re recalled. One month later, 120 tons reappear with another “new” label. Illegal, unethical, and hazardous. The country was in uproar.
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2008 Chinese Milk Scandal: 300,000 babies hospitalized in the 4 months after distribution of instant formula containing melamine – an illegal (toxic) chemical added to increase the amount of protein claimed in a processed food. (Nestle was just one of many companies involved in distribution).
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“Regrettably unavoidable” Child Slave Labor cases on cocoa farms in Cote d’Ivoire and mass deforestation in Ghana.
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“Water is not a right” – Chairman Peter Brabeck-Letmathe. Took millions of gallons per year during the California drought (2011-2017) without a permit (paying a measly $524 annual pipeline bill).
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$6 million IOU request during Ethiopian famine: Ethiopia was in debt to the Nestle following the nationalization of a local livestock subsidiary. Nestle decided to follow-up on this 1975 debt while the country was in crisis in 2002.
Maybe it’s a little dramatic to dwell on this dark history every morning over coffee. But when hearing the kids sing Nestle jingles around the house, it began to haunt me.
Multiple times a day, I watched commercials for Milo chocolate milk. It’s branded, in the Philippines at least, as the drink to “get your kids into sports”. Ah, it’s a health drink! It’ll give you the nutrients you need. Treated like a vitamin, it has the tagline: “Milo Every Day!”
Take just 30 seconds to watch an example commercial here, it really sums it up.
This is the voice. It’s positive, and associated with everything you care about. It believes in you. And for just 5 pesos per packet (10 cents), you can benefit from it.
This is only one localized example from a singular, albeit massive, corporation. But this is a multi-conglomerate and international issue. And eternally it is the poor who are targeted and suffer. The more cheaply a product can be manufactured, the more room there is for profit. And what better way to explain away the addictive qualities of the chemicals inside than to brand them an everyday, household staple? These foodstuff companies are savvy to sell to communities that are looking for a bargain, and not asking questions.
Ethically speaking, if these corporations want to market their products more honestly, there’s nothing to morally oppose. They break into the Jedi mind tricks, though, when they take the offensive by crafting an identity around these questionable-at-best products and label them as ‘safe’ and ‘healthy’ so that customers don’t need to ask questions. ‘It’s already researched!’ How convenient.
The wealthy, educated class members get to call their favorite snacks “junk food”, and knowingly. But when fresh produce is out of budget, or out of reach, these “junk foods” simply become “dinner”. (This is the increasingly famous “Food Desert” problem in America that many are now familiar with).
But what is the greater, psychological implication of consuming these “junk foods” regularly? What does it do to a person’s self-image if all they can afford to eat is something referred to as, well, trash? It can’t be good. Especially when we throw the adage “you are what you eat” around so liberally.
So there’s two types of information being partially received, and wholly avoided. The technical information: ingredients are on the products, but who can read them when they’re written in scientific code? And the social information: buyers know they’re consuming a cheap imitation, but they don’t know how cheap. And perhaps by not asking questions, the psychological damage that would come with knowing what these rich companies think they’re really worth is evaded altogether.
Either way, the barrier separating their class is doubly outlined. They’re ultimately affected physically and mentally by consuming these products.
To bring it back to a personal level, it broke my heart to see kids in these communities who want to grow and reach, but who are literally held back by a lack of proper nutrition. My students were stunted, some were overweight, and some were severely wasted. They’re physically at a disadvantage from regularly consuming these products. Adults in the community were in similar extremes – overweight or obese, or wasted. All but two men in my village were under my height. It’s no fault of race (as some tend to attribute it), and arguably not the fault of the individual either. They have access to healthy food, so what’s the problem then? Their malnutrition is the result of living in a commercially saturated landscape, that encourages ignorance and claims these products are the key to a happier life.
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In America right now, the middle and upper-classes are beginning to move (back) into affordable organic foods. Developing countries like the Philippines are still decades behind this. Processed foods are more novel there than the real foods that grow in their backyard. That’s why it’s so important for us to lead the way globally in saying what is okay, what is actually consumable, and being PUBLIC about this for other countries to hear. Through boycotts, policy change, or social media. America’s influence on pop culture – which includes health trends – is unparalleled. We have an incredible duty and responsibility to the world to set the bar for nutrition standards.
I implore readers and especially people of influence to not shirk our financial responsibility to invest against processed foods. Not just for your family to have an all-organically stocked fridge, but so those companies that are boldly revolting against this behemoth will continue to flourish. Our purchases affect an industry, and will ultimately light the way back for the currently cornered low-income consumers who are losing their voice and ability to choose for themselves.
Helio Hannah 