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Diet and the Disease of Civilization
Diet books contribute to a $60-billion industry as they speak to the 45 million Americans who diet every year. Yet these books don’t just tell readers what to they offer complete philosophies about who Americans are and how we should live. Diet and the Disease of Civilization interrupts the predictable debate about eating right to ask a hard what if it’s not calories—but concepts—that should be counted? Cultural critic Adrienne Rose Bitar reveals how four popular diets retell the “Fall of Man” as the narrative backbone for our national consciousness. Intensifying the moral panic of the obesity epidemic, they depict civilization itself as a disease and offer diet as the one true cure. Bitar reads each diet—the Paleo Diet, the Garden of Eden Diet, the Pacific Island Diet, the detoxification or detox diet—as both myth and manual, a story with side effects shaping social movements, driving industry, and constructing fundamental ideas about sickness and health. Diet and the Disease of Civilization unearths the ways in which diet books are actually utopian manifestos not just for better bodies, but also for a healthier society and a more perfect world.
244 pages, Paperback
Published January 26, 2018
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440 people want to read
About the author
Adrienne Rose Bitar
1 book5 followersI am a postdoctoral associate in the Department of History at Cornell University. I received my PhD from Stanford University in Modern Thought and Literature and specialize in the history and culture of American food, popular culture, and health.
My first book, Diet and the Disease of Civilization, was published January 2018 with Rutgers University Press.
The first full-length study of diet books, Diet and the Disease of Civilization reveals how 20th century dieting systems have articulated a powerful response to anxieties about the psychic and physical costs of modernity, crafting new stories positioning civilization itself as a disease and diet as the cure. Following an imaginary chronology of human origins, the book examines Paleolithic diets, biblical diets, precolonial diets, and environmentalist detoxification programs.
My first book, Diet and the Disease of Civilization, was published January 2018 with Rutgers University Press.
The first full-length study of diet books, Diet and the Disease of Civilization reveals how 20th century dieting systems have articulated a powerful response to anxieties about the psychic and physical costs of modernity, crafting new stories positioning civilization itself as a disease and diet as the cure. Following an imaginary chronology of human origins, the book examines Paleolithic diets, biblical diets, precolonial diets, and environmentalist detoxification programs.
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Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews
July 5, 2020
This was a very good and enjoyable read, which is something I don’t know you would guess from the title, subject matter or even academic bent. Still! It was very good. Especially how it drew together seemingly different political perspectives (Christians on the right, food activists on the left) to point out how all diets are essentially making the same argument about who we are as people and a culture and what we need.
I especially enjoyed this quote from the conclusion:
“The diet books repeat themselves, mourning the same fallen world, promising the same future, berating the same people for the same failures for the same reasons: for being fat and ugly, for reneging in their promise, for being sick and sad and stressed.”
I especially enjoyed this quote from the conclusion:
“The diet books repeat themselves, mourning the same fallen world, promising the same future, berating the same people for the same failures for the same reasons: for being fat and ugly, for reneging in their promise, for being sick and sad and stressed.”
April 6, 2018
Adrienne Rose Bitar argues that modern diet books are alternate histories of Western ideals of health and happiness in the 21st century. Authors of Paleo and Detox diet programs invoke narratives that parallel the dominant socio-political concerns of America, and these narratives lament their society’s loss of innocence, purity, and purpose, at the same time as they criticize its contemporary excesses. Such problems, the authors argue, are apparent in the modern decline of Americans’ physical health (obesity, hypertension, diabetes and other ‘diseases of civilization’), which are the results of the average American’s disconnect from nature and ‘natural’ ways of eating.
The solutions that diet authors put forward vary from movement to movement, but all ask individual dieters to ‘reconnect’ or ‘retrain’ their instinctual appetites, thus shedding their unhealthy impulses toward the foods of post-industrial society, in favor of the ‘real’ nutrition of a romanticized past. Bitar suggests that this union of social and bodily concerns is not new for American diets, ‘but today’s food movement upholds even loftier goals – environmental, patriotic, national, moral – by relying on the higher sensibilities of the dieter. Instead of a lesson in calories and carbohydrates, this new food movement appeals to the softer stuff that makes us human beings: our experience of pleasure and our desire to do good’ (24-25).
In appealing to the ‘softer stuff’ of the human condition, the four movements Bitar examines offer a surprising array of directives for the modern dieter. Paleo or Caveman programs engage evolutionary narratives, arguing that the genetic similarity of modern humans to their Paleolithic ancestors should guide a return to the diets enjoyed by pre-agricultural humanity: unprocessed fruits, vegetables, and meats; no dairy, grains, or refined sugars. Devotional or Eden diets propose a similar regimen, but embrace these foods (and the dieter’s conviction to get healthy) as evidence of God’s love and divine plan for Christian bodies. Primitive or Islander diets propose a radical shift to indigenous foods of the Pacific Islands, attempting to recreate the health purportedly experienced by pre-colonial natives in their simple meals of fish, fresh fruits, and root vegetables. Finally, Detox diets attempt to entirely rid the dieter’s plate of industrial foods, proposing that such products of modernity are poisonous for individual bodies and the planet as a whole. Constant across these diverse programs is the narrative of a ‘pure’ and ‘natural’ past, now disrupted and tainted by the addictive foods and toxic lifestyles of Western Civilization. Each diet is thus framed by a kind of nostalgia for tranquility, health, and harmony with nature that these authors imagine existed before (or outside of) the supposedly contaminating influences of modern life.
Bitar’s analysis is strongest when looking at movements that abundantly – even egregiously – romanticize this longed-for past. Indeed, the diet books that one might pass by without a second thought contain remarkably passionate narratives about the human condition. Paleo, in particular, shows itself to straddle both authoritative theories and popular narratives of evolution, invoking complicated (if often fanciful) imagery of health and happiness on the prehistoric African Savannah. Paleo dieters are encouraged to recognize the evolutionary ‘mismatch’ between their contemporary ways of eating and those of our early-human ancestors, whose diets were shaped by the forces of natural selection, rather than Wal-Mart and McDonald’s. In this sense, Paleo offers ‘a story about humanity, about evolution, about civilization and disease. The body of the individual dieter is situated in a long, deep history of mankind. The dieter is biologically indebted to the Paleolithic Era and, in turn, the coming generations will be indebted to him’ (41). Granted, Paleo authors take significant license with biological science and what is knowable about the deep, human past. But their narratives make the astonishing request for dieters to internalize an evolutionary story about their own bodies – a surprisingly well-received notion, considering many Americans’ attitudes toward evolutionary science.
Bitar’s argument is consistently even-handed, and may actually disappoint readers wanting a more scathing critique of American diet movements. For example, Bitar stresses the gender neutrality of these movements, which differ from the harsh regimens of the faddish feminine diets of Lulu Hunt Peters and masculine muscle-training programs of Charles Atlas. Similarly, her chapters do not completely cover the socio-economic disparities on which these modern diets inevitably rest. By and large, such movements are exclusionary, limited to people who possess the resources to choose to ‘detox’ or ‘eat like a caveman’. On the other hand, Bitar’s approach accepts that these authors genuinely wish to see progressive change in modern food consumption, and so she highlights a very real paradox in modern diets: they attempt to de-commodify foods through imaginative narratives of long-lost purity, only to deliver up scores of books, magazines, podcasts, blogs, and product lines in place of the industries they aim to dethrone.
For readers in consumerism, consumption, and the politics of food, Bitar’s book offers a nuanced look into the creation of human stories around new products and practices, as well as the problematic ways in which these movements take shape. As she suggests, these regimens often Orientalize, exoticize, and primitivize indigenous cultures. They engage both science and religion in questionable ways, and also capitalize upon readers’ desire for individual health and global change. But, Bitar explains, modern diets both mirror and grow from the likely hopes and fears of a 21st century American reader – a nostalgia for easier, ostensibly healthier times and the possibility for a returning to this former greatness.
The solutions that diet authors put forward vary from movement to movement, but all ask individual dieters to ‘reconnect’ or ‘retrain’ their instinctual appetites, thus shedding their unhealthy impulses toward the foods of post-industrial society, in favor of the ‘real’ nutrition of a romanticized past. Bitar suggests that this union of social and bodily concerns is not new for American diets, ‘but today’s food movement upholds even loftier goals – environmental, patriotic, national, moral – by relying on the higher sensibilities of the dieter. Instead of a lesson in calories and carbohydrates, this new food movement appeals to the softer stuff that makes us human beings: our experience of pleasure and our desire to do good’ (24-25).
In appealing to the ‘softer stuff’ of the human condition, the four movements Bitar examines offer a surprising array of directives for the modern dieter. Paleo or Caveman programs engage evolutionary narratives, arguing that the genetic similarity of modern humans to their Paleolithic ancestors should guide a return to the diets enjoyed by pre-agricultural humanity: unprocessed fruits, vegetables, and meats; no dairy, grains, or refined sugars. Devotional or Eden diets propose a similar regimen, but embrace these foods (and the dieter’s conviction to get healthy) as evidence of God’s love and divine plan for Christian bodies. Primitive or Islander diets propose a radical shift to indigenous foods of the Pacific Islands, attempting to recreate the health purportedly experienced by pre-colonial natives in their simple meals of fish, fresh fruits, and root vegetables. Finally, Detox diets attempt to entirely rid the dieter’s plate of industrial foods, proposing that such products of modernity are poisonous for individual bodies and the planet as a whole. Constant across these diverse programs is the narrative of a ‘pure’ and ‘natural’ past, now disrupted and tainted by the addictive foods and toxic lifestyles of Western Civilization. Each diet is thus framed by a kind of nostalgia for tranquility, health, and harmony with nature that these authors imagine existed before (or outside of) the supposedly contaminating influences of modern life.
Bitar’s analysis is strongest when looking at movements that abundantly – even egregiously – romanticize this longed-for past. Indeed, the diet books that one might pass by without a second thought contain remarkably passionate narratives about the human condition. Paleo, in particular, shows itself to straddle both authoritative theories and popular narratives of evolution, invoking complicated (if often fanciful) imagery of health and happiness on the prehistoric African Savannah. Paleo dieters are encouraged to recognize the evolutionary ‘mismatch’ between their contemporary ways of eating and those of our early-human ancestors, whose diets were shaped by the forces of natural selection, rather than Wal-Mart and McDonald’s. In this sense, Paleo offers ‘a story about humanity, about evolution, about civilization and disease. The body of the individual dieter is situated in a long, deep history of mankind. The dieter is biologically indebted to the Paleolithic Era and, in turn, the coming generations will be indebted to him’ (41). Granted, Paleo authors take significant license with biological science and what is knowable about the deep, human past. But their narratives make the astonishing request for dieters to internalize an evolutionary story about their own bodies – a surprisingly well-received notion, considering many Americans’ attitudes toward evolutionary science.
Bitar’s argument is consistently even-handed, and may actually disappoint readers wanting a more scathing critique of American diet movements. For example, Bitar stresses the gender neutrality of these movements, which differ from the harsh regimens of the faddish feminine diets of Lulu Hunt Peters and masculine muscle-training programs of Charles Atlas. Similarly, her chapters do not completely cover the socio-economic disparities on which these modern diets inevitably rest. By and large, such movements are exclusionary, limited to people who possess the resources to choose to ‘detox’ or ‘eat like a caveman’. On the other hand, Bitar’s approach accepts that these authors genuinely wish to see progressive change in modern food consumption, and so she highlights a very real paradox in modern diets: they attempt to de-commodify foods through imaginative narratives of long-lost purity, only to deliver up scores of books, magazines, podcasts, blogs, and product lines in place of the industries they aim to dethrone.
For readers in consumerism, consumption, and the politics of food, Bitar’s book offers a nuanced look into the creation of human stories around new products and practices, as well as the problematic ways in which these movements take shape. As she suggests, these regimens often Orientalize, exoticize, and primitivize indigenous cultures. They engage both science and religion in questionable ways, and also capitalize upon readers’ desire for individual health and global change. But, Bitar explains, modern diets both mirror and grow from the likely hopes and fears of a 21st century American reader – a nostalgia for easier, ostensibly healthier times and the possibility for a returning to this former greatness.
February 4, 2025
Bitar's book is a fascinating contribution to food studies. In brief, she takes an interpretive/hermeneutical approach to diet books of the U.S., dividing them into four basic traditions: Paleo, devotional or Edenic, precolonial, and detox. Bitar's arguments are convincing, the book could've been much longer and I would've been happy to read it.
November 13, 2022
Good analysis and overview. I would have liked to have more discussion of the eugenic and fascist ideas at the foundations of the ‘fallen world’ myth. If anyone has resources about that I’d love some recommendations
March 21, 2019
The social and cultural significance for diet narratives. Empirical review of 400+ diet books.
March 23, 2018
Full disclosure: I recently met the author, who is a postdoc here at Cornell, and she gave me a copy of the book -- but I don't think that's colored my reading.
This is an exemplary work in the sort of interdisciplinary realms of "cultural studies", drawing on an impressive range of sources and materials including anthropology, history, food and nutrition, art and literature, and using them in interesting ways and combinations. Much more than the sort of superficial dropping in of one or two well-known references as a nod to interdisciplinarity, here we find them skillfully woven together to produce analysis and reflections on some of the ways diet and health are constructed and represented. The text is quite readable, and Rutgers is to be commended for the inclusion of full-color illustrations. As an anthropologist and archaeologist I might build more detail on Paleolithic foodways and lifeways, or on specific indigenous traditions, but that would result in a more specialized and probably less readable book. There's an impressive balance here of the different sorts of data, and clearly deep and thoughtful readings of the source texts, and even some humorous touches along the way.
The four categories considered here are the "paleo" diets, devotional diets, "primitive" (as distinct from paleo) diets, and detox diets. Running through all is a notion of pursuit or idealization of some sort of utopia, varying somewhat from one case to the next and in the last case largely as its inverse, in the toxicity of the modern. The Conclusion is perhaps a bit short -- those are typically problematic to write -- but this is particularly noteworthy as a first book by a scholar who just completed graduate school. I'll be recommending this one to friends working in or interested in food and nutrition, and "American" culture/history (there's some international content, but it's largely US-oriented), and I'll look forward to seeing what comes next.
This is an exemplary work in the sort of interdisciplinary realms of "cultural studies", drawing on an impressive range of sources and materials including anthropology, history, food and nutrition, art and literature, and using them in interesting ways and combinations. Much more than the sort of superficial dropping in of one or two well-known references as a nod to interdisciplinarity, here we find them skillfully woven together to produce analysis and reflections on some of the ways diet and health are constructed and represented. The text is quite readable, and Rutgers is to be commended for the inclusion of full-color illustrations. As an anthropologist and archaeologist I might build more detail on Paleolithic foodways and lifeways, or on specific indigenous traditions, but that would result in a more specialized and probably less readable book. There's an impressive balance here of the different sorts of data, and clearly deep and thoughtful readings of the source texts, and even some humorous touches along the way.
The four categories considered here are the "paleo" diets, devotional diets, "primitive" (as distinct from paleo) diets, and detox diets. Running through all is a notion of pursuit or idealization of some sort of utopia, varying somewhat from one case to the next and in the last case largely as its inverse, in the toxicity of the modern. The Conclusion is perhaps a bit short -- those are typically problematic to write -- but this is particularly noteworthy as a first book by a scholar who just completed graduate school. I'll be recommending this one to friends working in or interested in food and nutrition, and "American" culture/history (there's some international content, but it's largely US-oriented), and I'll look forward to seeing what comes next.
December 13, 2018
Read my conversation with the author here: https://nursingclio.org/2018/07/31/di...
Displaying 1 - 7 of 7 reviews