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Investigation How Fat Are We? by Randal
O'Toole America's obesity "crisis" is not the
result of fast food, but of fast and loose manipulation of
evidence.
A few years ago, at a Liberty editors' conference, Bill
Bradford asked, "Now that the tobacco case is just about settled, what will
lawyers and left-wing activists demonize next?" Several people guessed fattening
food; I suggested instead, automobiles.
| | Randal
O'Toole is senior economist with the Thoreau Institute and author of
"Reforming the Forest Service." |
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Soon after, Al Gore declared war on sprawl and the automobile. A Sierra Club
lawsuit stopped all highway construction in Atlanta and Congress passed
legislation that gives more funding to mass transit systems that carry less than
2% of American travel than to highway systems that carry nearly 90%. Yet
the war on fattening foods was not far behind. Recent announcements by the
surgeon general and Centers for Disease Control and Prevention have proclaimed an
"obesity epidemic." Nutritional activists urge people to sue fast-food
restaurants and food manufacturers for making them fat. At least one such lawsuit
has already been filed. They also want government to regulate food advertising
aimed at children, tax high-calorie foods, and subsidize nutritious low-calorie
foods. The anti-fat and anti-automobile campaigns have even converged.
Anti-auto and anti-suburb urban planners claim that suburbs and automobiles are a
public health menace because they encourage people to get fat rather than
exercise. They recommend a dose of high-density housing and auto-free downtowns.
Yet the data show that inner-city residents tend to be more obese than those in
the suburbs. In fact, there are no clear data showing that there is an
obesity epidemic at all. The only evidence for it is unverified telephone surveys
whose results differ from actual measurements of American weights. The
basic source for the claim that there is an obesity epidemic is an annual CDC
survey indicating that the share of Americans who are obese has increased from
12% in 1991 to more than 19% in 2000. The CDC defines "obese" as having a
body-mass index (BMI) of 30 or more. "Overweight" is a body-mass index of 25 or
more. BMI for adults is calculated by dividing a person's weight in kilograms by
the square of their height in meters. For those who are not yet metricized,
multiply your weight in pounds by 703 and divide by the square of your height in
inches. Without naming any names, if you are a balding researcher who is
5 feet 7 inches tall and weighs 159 pounds, your BMI is a marginally satisfactory
24.9. However, if you creep up to 160 pounds, you fall into the overweight
category with a BMI of 25.1. Sadly, this means that our hypothetical researcher
probably shouldn't have the Valrhona chocolate mousse that everyone else is
enjoying for dessert tonight. Some people have questioned the CDC's
method of measuring obesity, pointing out that by CDC definitions, most NFL
football players would be considered obese. While it is true that the body-mass
index fails to measure fat vs. other kinds of body materials, there are even more
significant sources of error in the CDC's surveys. If you believe the
CDC surveys, breakdowns of obesity levels by state show some rather alarming
trends. In my home state of Oregon, for example, less than 15% of adults were
considered obese in 1995, but by 2000 more than 20% were obese.
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| The only evidence for an
obesity epidemic is unverified telephone surveys whose results differ from actual
measurements of American weights. |
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Some states are even worse: Georgia's obesity rates more than doubled between
1991 and 1999, from less than 10% to more than 20%. Obesity increased in every
state during that time period, with the greatest increases in the South and
Midwest. Surgeon General David Satcher has called the obesity epidemic a "crisis"
because obesity supposedly kills 325,000 Americans a year and adds $117 billion
to annual health care costs. What happened between 1990 and 2000 that
would explain this sudden ballooning of the American public? The popular
explanation is that people are eating fattier foods and exercising less. However,
I can think of three other explanations that make more sense. First, the
explanation for just about every demographic trend in modern America: baby
boomers. Perhaps they got older, exercised less, but kept eating. The problem
with this is that the CDC claims that the most fattened adult age class is 19- to
29-year-olds and that children are also getting fatter. A second
explanation for increased obesity rates can be found in the declining
unemployment and rising incomes of the 1990s. As Paul Fussell observes in his
1983 book, "Class," obesity is in large part a class phenomenon. One hundred
years ago, it was fashionable among the wealthy to have a paunch, and men's
clothes were even designed to emphasize one. This is what led to the popular
notion of wealthy people as "fat cats." Today, of course, the middle and
upper classes prefer to be fashionably thin, but working class people tend to be
overweight. CDC researchers agree that "lower economic status . . . is associated
with obesity." Just as weight indicated wealth a century ago, it indicates
security today. Perhaps the booming '90s saw unemployment rates at near-record
lows, enabling more people to earn enough money to feed their families enough to
become overweight, without acquiring the upper-class aversion to fat. A
close look at the obesity statistics supports this notion. According to CDC data,
obesity is growing fastest among Hispanics. CDC data also indicate that the most
obese children are African-American girls, 17% of whom are overweight compared to
less than 12% of other groups. A study from the New Jersey University of Medicine
finds that 22% of Hispanic and black children are likely to be overweight
compared with only 12% of non-Hispanic white children. If there is an
obesity epidemic, then, it may merely reflect a healthy economy that has provided
enough jobs to bring low-income people out of poverty and into obesity. If so,
then one sure cure for the epidemic would be a good, long recession. Policies
aimed at such a recession would make as much sense as trying to cure congestion
by stopping new highway construction and putting barriers in existing roads
which, of course, are the policies recommended by anti-sprawl forces.
The best explanation is that the numbers are simply wrong. They are based on
a random telephone survey of people's heights and weights done by state health
officials and coordinated by the CDC. Only 21 states participated in the survey
in 1985. By 1990, all but five (mostly thinly populated) states reported in, and
all joined by 1994. How accurate is a telephone survey? Without naming
any specific genders, a lot of people I know won't even tell their husbands how
much they weigh, much less a complete stranger calling on the phone. At the same
time, people of a completely different gender tend to overstate their height.
(Our hypothetical researcher would like everyone to know that he is really 5
feet, 7.5 inches tall, but modestly used 5 foot 7 for the purposes of this
article.) Because so many people understate their weight or overstate
their height, CDC researchers assume that actual obesity rates are much higher
than are revealed by their telephone surveys. Indeed, they point out that real
measurements of large numbers of Americans reveal much higher rates of obesity
22% than any of the telephone surveys, which so far have never
recorded rates as high as 20%. Thus, the obesity epidemic may really be a
truthfulness epidemic. Perhaps interviewers in recent years prodded interviewees
a bit harder to get more accurate results. Or perhaps people are more willing to
admit they are overweight because so many popular writers blame obesity on
McDonalds, Coca-Cola, Frito-Lay, and other food makers rather than the overweight
people themselves. Stephen Milloy, who publishes the junkscience.com website, calls these numbers
"unadulterated junk science" since the data collected by telephone were never
verified. Milloy suggests that reports of a fat epidemic are coming from
bureaucrats and academic researchers who simply want to expand their budgets and
power.
| If seriously obese people
do in fact die younger than thinner people, it may be that the health costs they
impose on society are lower, not higher, than average.
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I downloaded data from the ominously named Behavioral Risk Factors
Surveillance System, the annual poll that the Centers for Disease Control claims
is "the world's largest telephone survey." The CDC and state public health
agencies contact close to 200,000 people a year and ask them hundreds of nosy
questions about their health and opinions. The CDC brags that the survey
has had major influences on public policy. For example, it says, the survey's
finding that most people think second-hand smoke is dangerous convinced the
Oregon legislature to ban workplace smoking. Whether second-hand smoke really is
dangerous seems to be beside the point. Using the downloaded data for
2000, I compared BMI with income, education, and race. The average BMI of all the
people surveyed (at least, all those who gave their weights and heights) was
26.4, and 20.4% of them were obese. The first table confirms that BMI is strongly
correlated with household income: the lower the income, the higher the BMI and
the higher the obesity rate. | Household Income | Average
BMI | Percent Obese | |
<10,000 | 27.3 | 27.5% | |
10,00014,999 | 27.2 | 25.7% | |
15,00019,999 | 26.8 | 24.0% | |
20,00024,999 | 26.7 | 23.1% | |
25,00034,999 | 26.5 | 21.1% | |
35,00049,999 | 26.5 | 20.8% | |
50,00074,999 | 26.3 | 18.6% | |
75,000+ | 25.7 | 15.1% | BMI is
also correlated with education: the lower the education, the higher the BMI and
the higher the obesity rate. The only exception is the category of people with no
education. This is probably heavily stocked with recent immigrants, as 38% of
this category is Hispanic compared with 8% of the total. | Education | Average
BMI | Percent Obese | |
None | 27.4 | 25.2% | | Grade
18 | 27.6 | 28.3% | | Grade
911 | 27.2 | 26.2% | | Grade
12 | 26.7 | 22.3% | | College
13 | 26.4 | 20.6% | | College
grad | 25.7 | 15.4% | Asians
(including Pacific islanders) have the lowest BMIs, followed by non-Hispanic
whites, Hispanics, Native Americans, and blacks. "Other" is somewhere in the
middle. | Race | Average
BMI | Percent Obese | |
Black | 28.2 | 31.6% | | Native
American | 27.8 | 29.1% | |
Hispanic | 26.9 | 22.7% | |
Other | 26.8 | 22.6% | | Non-Hispanic
White | 26.2 | 19.2% | |
Asian-Pacific | 24.3 | 8.3% |
BMI is also correlated with age: BMIs and obesity rates peak in the 5059
age category and fall with decreasing and increasing age away from that category.
This tends to support the baby boomer hypothesis. | Age | Average
BMI | Obesity Rate | |
<30 | 25.0 | 14.3% | |
3039 | 26.4 | 20.0% | |
4049 | 26.8 | 22.6% | |
5059 | 27.4 | 25.5% | |
6069 | 27.2 | 24.3% | |
70+ | 25.8 | 16.0% | Stephen
Milloy cites an editorial from The New England Journal of Medicine questioning
the surgeon general's claims that obesity causes 325,000 deaths or more per year
and, by implication, the claim that the health costs of obesity are more
than $100 billion per year. "That figure is by no means well established," says
the Journal, adding, "Most of the evidence is either indirect or derived from
[studies with] serious methodological flaws." More than one recent study
has found that weight is less important to health as you get older. Our
hypothetical researcher, whose 50th birthday is imminent, will be reassured to
know, for example, that people over 50 can have BMIs as high as 32 and not suffer
any greater mortality than people with BMIs under 25. Researchers add that,
unless such people have heart disease, diabetes, or some other obesity-related
disease, asking them to diet "might unjustifiably decrease their perceived
quality of life." CDC and other nutritional researchers have a strong
incentive to claim that we are suffering from an obesity epidemic, for such
claims are likely to lead Congress to direct more research and other funds to
them. Yet these claims are hardly new. "Overweight is so common that it
constitutes a national health problem of the first order," said the Metropolitan
Life Insurance Company in 1942. In 1952, the director of the National Institutes
of Health declared that obesity was the nation's primary health problem.
Yet it remains true that some Americans are obese and that severe obesity is
associated with heart disease, diabetes, and other health problems. To what
extent do the suburbs cause that obesity? The detailed data suggest that,
if anything, people living in cities are more obese than than those living in
suburbs. While many minorities are moving to the suburbs, Hispanics and blacks
remain concentrated in cities and the suburbs remain heavily white. It appears
that location tends to be less important than income. A report from an
anti-auto group SprawlWatch insists that the "built environment" contributes to
obesity because it encourages auto driving rather than walking or cycling. But
another finding of the CDC telephone survey is that the amount of physical
activity Americans undertake has not changed substantially in the last
decade.
| The survey's finding that
most people think second-hand smoke is dangerous convinced the Oregon legislature
to ban workplace smoking. Whether second-hand smoke really is dangerous was
beside the point. |
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In fact, says another report, "the activity levels of Americans appear to have
changed little, if at all, from the 1970s to the 1990s." This indicates that
increased driving and the built environment have nothing to do with any recent
changes in obesity rates. Despite this finding, the report's authors
recommend that "cities, zoning authorities, and urban planners" should "modify
zoning requirements, designate downtown areas as pedestrian malls and
automobile-free zones, and modify residential neighborhoods, workplaces, and
shopping centers to promote physical activity." Among the other recommendations
are to "Designate an annual National 'No-TV' Week," restrict advertising of
high-calorie foods on children's television, tax high-calorie or high-fat foods,
and subsidize low-calorie nutritious foods. These and 26 other
recommendations are made with absolutely no assessment of their efficacy. Before
elected officials and government bureaucrats start implementing such policies,
they should find out whether they will work or whether they will do more harm
than good. Anti-sprawl activists are also quick to note that children
today are less likely to walk to school and more likely to have their parents
drive them. But this isn't a suburban phenomenon either. Before 1980, 80% of
American schoolchildren walked to school. By 1990, less than a third did.
Yet 57% of American families didn't move to the suburbs during the 1980s.
Instead, something else must explain this change. The answer seems to be
milk cartons specifically, the "missing children" campaign that crested in
the 1980s. This media-generated panic turned out to be phony the vast
majority of the "kidnapped" children had been taken by one of their family
members in a custody dispute. Yet CDC Dr. William Dietz believes that "parental
fear about kidnapping" is one of the major reasons why children today get less
exercise than they did 20 years ago. Eric Schlosser, author of "Fast
Food Nation," has a different take on sprawl and obesity. He argues that
fast-food restaurants such as McDonalds were "a catalyst" to sprawl. And he also
blames those fast-food restaurants for the obesity epidemic, claiming that the
price paid for fast food fails to account for the "real price" of the meal,
mainly the social cost of obesity. Schlosser's view is underscored by
George Washington University law professor John Banzhaf, who takes credit for
helping "come up with the idea of suing tobacco companies as a way of shifting
the cost of smoking from the nonsmokers to the smokers." Now he argues that the
oft-cited $100 billion cost of obesity is partly paid "by people who maintain a
healthy weight in the form of higher taxes and health insurance." Banzhaf is
urging people to sue food companies for imposing those costs on society.
This is a difficult case for lawyers to make because, in contrast to smoking,
fatty foods produce no "second-hand fat." It will be hard to prove that a
particular food contributed to obesity, that obesity caused a particular health
problem, and that that health problem imposes costs on people who don't suffer
from it. And if seriously obese people do in fact die younger than thinner
people, it is possible that the health costs they impose on society are actually
lower, not higher, than average. So some nutritionists go beyond Banzhaf
and advocate suing food companies just for selling people fatty foods. The
ironically named Marion Nestle, a nutrition professor at New York University and
author of the forthcoming book, "Food Politics: How the Food Industry Manipulates
What We Eat to the Detriment of Our Health," observes that "The function of the
food industry is to get people to eat more, not less." "There's a lot of
people who benefit from people being fat and sick," Nestle claims elsewhere. "So
the response to the food industry should be very similar to what happened with
the tobacco companies," meaning that food companies should be sued for making
people fat. This is a common theme of the anti-corporate, pro-government
movement: people are so easily manipulated by advertising that they need
government regulation to protect them from things they shouldn't do. Anti-fat
activists argue, for example, that vending machines should be banned from schools
so that students aren't given the opportunity to buy junk food. Indeed,
many food activists want to demonize fatty foods just as tobacco has been
demonized. "I want to get to the point where people are in the hallway and see a
vending machine and say, 'That's bad, that shouldn't be there,' in the same way
as if they saw a cigarette vending machine," says Tom Farley of the Tulane
University School of Public Health and Tropical Medicine. In fact,
Newsday columnist Meredith Berkman recently filed one of the first anti-fat
lawsuits against the manufacturer of a snack food called Pirate's Booty. In
December, 2001, the Good Housekeeping Institute tested Pirate's Booty, which is
basically flavored puffed rice, and found that it contained three times as much
fat as the label stated. The manufacturer, Robert's American Gourmet Foods,
blamed the problem on a change in its manufacturing process and immediately
recalled the product from store shelves. Nearly four months after the
recall, Berkman filed a $50 million class-action lawsuit against Robert's Foods,
claiming "emotional distress" and nutritional damage because she had fed Pirate's
Booty to her daughter. The complaint claims to represent all consumers who ruined
their diets and had to spend more time at the gym because they ate mislabeled
Pirate's Booty. Of course, manufacturers should not mislabel the
nutritional content of packaged foods. But in a broader general sense, can
McDonalds hamburgers, Hostess Twinkies, and Ben and Jerry's ice cream be blamed
for making people fat? Frank Zappa once promised, "there will come a time
when you won't even be ashamed if you are fat." If the left has its way, we will
reach that time not because we no longer find fat to be aesthetically repugnant
but because we can blame fat on giant corporations instead of ourselves.
Michael Pollan takes a different attitude in his recent book, "Botany of Desire."
Pollan is no friend to the food industry and makes it clear that he opposes, for
example, genetically manipulated foods. He also notes that refined sugar is a
recent phenomenon: a little more than a century ago, few people could afford most
sweets. But he tries to imagine what it was like the first time in
prehistory that someone tasted honey or some other sugar. The closest he can come
is to recall his 1-year-old son's reaction when he tasted his birthday cake; the
first time he was treated to a sweet. A look of wonderment came over his face, as
if to say, "Why didn't you tell me there was something like this in the world? I
am going to dedicate the rest of my life to getting more of it." And, Pollan
notes, "he pretty much has." Pollan's son was too young to be manipulated
by advertising or the food industry. The lesson is that diet and physical
activity are matters of self-discipline (or, in the case of children, parental
discipline). Fast-food restaurants and other parts of the food industry sell
things that people want, and the industry is subject to enormous selection
pressures filtering out things that people don't want. The health-food and
weight-loss segments of the industry are each multi-billion dollar industries in
their own right. To the extent that it is a real problem, obesity is a
personal problem, not a social problem. Lawsuits won't solve it, nor will taxes
on fat, subsidies to low-fat foods, censorship of advertising, or restrictions on
auto driving. The government should stay out of our kitchens, supermarkets, and
restaurants.
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