The Extraordinary Science of Addictive Junk Food
Grant Cornett for The New York Times
By MICHAEL MOSS Published: February 20, 2013
On the evening of April 8, 1999, a long line of Town Cars and taxis
pulled up to the Minneapolis headquarters of Pillsbury and discharged 11
men who controlled America’s largest food companies. Nestlé was in
attendance, as were Kraft and Nabisco, General Mills and Procter &
Gamble, Coca-Cola and Mars. Rivals any other day, the C.E.O.’s and
company presidents had come together for a rare, private meeting. On the
agenda was one item: the emerging obesity epidemic and how to deal with
it. While the atmosphere was cordial, the men assembled were hardly
friends. Their stature was defined by their skill in fighting one
another for what they called “stomach share” — the amount of digestive
space that any one company’s brand can grab from the competition.
James Behnke, a 55-year-old executive at Pillsbury, greeted the men as
they arrived. He was anxious but also hopeful about the plan that he and
a few other food-company executives had devised to engage the C.E.O.’s
on America’s growing weight problem. “We were very concerned, and
rightfully so, that obesity was becoming a major issue,” Behnke
recalled. “People were starting to talk about sugar taxes, and there was
a lot of pressure on food companies.” Getting the company chiefs in the
same room to talk about anything, much less a sensitive issue like
this, was a tricky business, so Behnke and his fellow organizers had
scripted the meeting carefully, honing the message to its barest
essentials. “C.E.O.’s in the food industry are typically not technical
guys, and they’re uncomfortable going to meetings where technical people
talk in technical terms about technical things,” Behnke said. “They
don’t want to be embarrassed. They don’t want to make commitments. They
want to maintain their aloofness and autonomy.”
A chemist by training with a doctoral degree in food science, Behnke
became Pillsbury’s chief technical officer in 1979 and was instrumental
in creating a long line of hit products, including microwaveable
popcorn. He deeply admired Pillsbury but in recent years had grown
troubled by pictures of obese children suffering from diabetes and the
earliest signs of hypertension and heart disease. In the months leading
up to the C.E.O. meeting, he was engaged in conversation with a group of
food-science experts who were painting an increasingly grim picture of
the public’s ability to cope with the industry’s formulations — from the
body’s fragile controls on overeating to the hidden power of some
processed foods to make people feel hungrier still. It was time, he and a
handful of others felt, to warn the C.E.O.’s that their companies may
have gone too far in creating and marketing products that posed the
greatest health concerns.
The discussion took place in Pillsbury’s auditorium. The first speaker
was a vice president of Kraft named Michael Mudd. “I very much
appreciate this opportunity to talk to you about childhood obesity and
the growing challenge it presents for us all,” Mudd began. “Let me say
right at the start, this is not an easy subject. There are no easy
answers — for what the public health community must do to bring this
problem under control or for what the industry should do as others seek
to hold it accountable for what has happened. But this much is clear:
For those of us who’ve looked hard at this issue, whether they’re public
health professionals or staff specialists in your own companies, we
feel sure that the one thing we shouldn’t do is nothing.”
As he spoke, Mudd clicked through a deck of slides — 114 in all —
projected on a large screen behind him. The figures were staggering.
More than half of American adults were now considered overweight, with
nearly one-quarter of the adult population — 40 million people —
clinically defined as obese. Among children, the rates had more than
doubled since 1980, and the number of kids considered obese had shot
past 12 million. (This was still only 1999; the nation’s obesity rates
would climb much higher.) Food manufacturers were now being blamed for
the problem from all sides — academia, the Centers for Disease Control
and Prevention, the American Heart Association and the American Cancer
Society. The secretary of agriculture, over whom the industry had long
held sway, had recently called obesity a “national epidemic.”
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