FAT OF THE LAND; OBESITY

The Economist
March 6, 2004

The government worries that it should do something to change the way people eat. But diets are already changing.

GIVEN mankind's need to fret, it is not surprising that the diseases of prosperity—stress, depression and, increasingly, obesity—get a lot of play in Britain these days.

On March 3rd John Reid, the health secretary, announced a three-month public consultation about the nation's health: in the current mood, that is likely to focus on obesity. Last week, a report on public health commissioned by the government cited obesity among its main worries; last month Tony Blair's strategy unit floated the idea of a "fat tax" on foods that fuel obesity; and last year, the Food Standards Agency, the industry regulator, advocated a ban on advertising junk food to children.

Yet the government swiftly swatted away the idea of a fat tax, and Tessa Jowell, the culture secretary, has said that she is sceptical about an advertising ban. Mr Reid says the government wants to be neither a "nanny state" nor a "Pontius Pilate state which washes its hands of its citizens' health".

Why this ambivalence? Not because of doubts that obesity is a serious problem. It increases the risk of diabetes, heart disease and cancer. Rather, because it is not clear that the government can do much about it. There's no evidence that making fatty foods more expensive would put people off them; and in Sweden, where advertising to minors is already banned, children are as porky as they are in any comparable country.

What's more, it is not obvious that the problem will worsen. Shoppers' behaviour suggests the opposite. It is not just the flight from carbohydrates prompted by the Atkins diet; there is a broader shift going on. Britain, the world's biggest chocolate-eater, seems to be going off the stuff. In the four years to 2002, sales of chocolate in Britain fell every year: 2% by volume and 7% by value over the period. Last month, the new boss of Nestlé Rowntree, Chris White, described it as "a business in crisis". (The company says his remarks were "taken out of context" and denies there is a crisis, but admits that sales of KitKat, its biggest brand, fell by 2% in 2003.)

Companies are edging away from fattening foods. Todd Stitzer, chief executive of Cadbury Schweppes, Britain's biggest producer of fattening stuff, says that five years ago, chocolate made up 80% of sales. That's down to a half. Five years ago 85% of drinks sales were sweet, fizzy stuff. That's down to 56%. The rest is mostly juice. Diet drinks—which make up a third of the sales of fizzy drinks—are growing at 5% a year, while sales of the fattening stuff are static.

Supermarkets say that people are buying healthier food. According to Lucy Neville-Rolfe, Tesco's director of corporate affairs, its Healthy Living (lower calorie) range grew by 12% in 2003, twice the growth in overall sales. Sales of fruit and vegetables are growing faster than overall sales, too. That may be partly because fresh produce is getting more various, more is available all year round and better supply boosts demand. Five years ago Tesco stocked six or seven varieties of tomato. Now it stocks 15.

The spread of big supermarkets, which offer better produce than the mouldy stuff at the corner shop, may improve diets. A study carried out by the University of Southampton on a big new supermarket in a poor part of Leeds concluded that after it opened, two-thirds of those with the worst diets ate more fruit and vegetables.

Cafés and restaurants report an increase in healthy eating, too. Pret A Manger, a sandwich chain, says that sales of salads grew by 63% last year, compared with 6% overall sales growth. McDonalds, which introduced fruit salad a year ago, has sold 10m portions since.

But it isn't just eating too much fatty stuff that makes people fat. It's indolence, too. That may be changing. Gym membership figures suggest that more Britons at least intend to get off their sofas. According to Mintel, a market-research company, there were 3.8m members of private gyms last year, up from 2.2m in 1998.

So why isn't all this virtue showing up in the figures? Maybe it is starting to. The average man got thinner in 2002, the most recent available year (see chart on previous page), for the first time since body-mass-index records began; women's BMI was static. One year, of course, does not make a trend; but a fall in Americans' weight last year, also for the first time, supports the idea that something is changing in the rich world's fattest countries.

So does the fact that fat is a class issue (see chart). Where the rich lead, the poor tend to follow—partly because the poor get richer over time, and partly because health messages tend to reach the better-educated first and the worse-educated later. That's what has been happening with smoking, a habit the rich gave up years ago and the poor are now stubbing out too.

Campaigners for the fat tax point out that, without hefty government intervention, through taxes and public information campaigns, it is unlikely that smoking would have gone into such a decline. But that may not be the case with food. Consumers are assailed every day by messages from companies telling them to get thin. Peer pressure is likely to have more impact on teenagers than any amount of finger-wagging from ministers. Maybe the government's interest itself suggests that a corner has been turned. As Ms Neville-Rolfe, a former civil servant, says, "Government often gets on to issues at the point at which they're being solved. "