A paper by David Leon in this month’s International Journal of Epidemiology showed the dramatic increase in life expectancy — the median age at death, that is.  It has reached over 85 years for women in Japan, but it’s high even in countries where longevity was relatively low a generation ago.  Cheeringly, US life expectancy at birth is now 78 years; in the UK it’s 80.  And it’s even higher in some countries of western continental Europe.  Here are the graphs for different parts of the world from Leon’s paper, showing trends since 1970:

Life expectancy since 1970

Lyons has gone after the anti-obesity crusaders before (as well as related topics at his smart blog on contemporary food confusion, Panic On A Plate).  Now, he’s particularly disturbed by the sermonizing about eating. “You can’t even have a pie and a pint without someone telling you it will kill you, it seems,” Lyons writes at Spiked.

And, really, it’s even worse than that — because it’s not just eating that’s the subject of the lecturing.  It might be true that you will live longer if you give up smoking, cut your salt intake, drop your BMI down to 24.99, exercise four times per week for at least 20 minutes each time, get immunized against flu and human papillomavirus, drink in moderation, and take naps.  But unfortunately there’s not a bit of evidence that any of that — apart from the decline in smoking — has contributed to increasing longevity.

And of course, even with smoking cessation, there’s no telling whether it would make any difference to you — only on average.

So why are the public health messages so far away from what really matters — basically, prenatal care, postnatal care, and wealth (with its concomitant, standard of living)?  Well, there’s a puzzle.

What’s the point of having an industry whose main aim is to make sure that people are constantly in fear that they are doing something that will kill them — even as it becomes apparent that most of what people do is only making us live longer?   Lyons calls it Good News Omission Mentality Syndrome (GNOMES).

I ask you:  could it have something to do with control?  And the desire to sell products?

Today, it would be closer to the truth to say that tragedy only counts if it can be diagnosed.   And diagnosis only counts if it’s biological.

That’s been the story of  the conversation about autistic children, and the implication of so-called mitochondrial dysfunction.

Deficiencies of energy metabolism have been rumored in association with the autistic picture for a while now, and emerged in the Hannah Poling case a few years ago.  They were given a boost by a small European case series (abstract here, PDF here) published in 2005 in Developmental Medicine and Child Neurology.  (The authors of the article gave their paper the deceptive title “Mitochondrial dysfunction in autism spectrum disorders:  a population-based study,” even though the research involved no population at all, just 11 kids.  But business is business.)

Another boost came this week with the publication in JAMA of a methodologically careful study of  energy metabolism in 10 California children diagnosed with autism, contrasted with 10 children drawn from a well-matched sample of comparable control children.   The new study found reduced oxidative activity in mitochondria — the tiny energy-chain entities inside cells that produce chemically based, biologically derived power for the cells’ functions.  The reduced oxidative activity was present in most of the 10 autistic children, and they showed a much-altered mean energy metabolism on several different measures.

Thus, altered energy metabolism at the cellular level has been documented in a small handful of children diagnosed with autism.  It seems not to be present in all children with autistic diagnoses.  It might be a result of autistic behavior rather than a cause, or a bystander phenomenon of some kind.  Or it might be a feature that hastens diagnosis (in the ones who have the unusual metabolic pattern, it has not been shown to precede the diagnosis) without actually playing any predisposing role.  Indeed, the authors of the JAMA paper remark that the

mitochondrial dysfunction observed in this preliminary study performed with children presenting with full syndrome autism may or may not indicate an etiological role.

But this minor and still untested finding on mitochondrial energetics, still not of any self-evident significance regarding the cause of autistic behavior, has created a major stir.  Medscape weighed in.  Business Week ran a story written by HealthDay reporter Jenifer Goodwin.  And it’s no surprise that the story has been front page news at the autism blogs, like Age of Autism and Autism Speaks.

So it seems safe to say that we’re looking at the third coming of a fact.

That some children engage with the world differently than do most kids was the first discovery, an old discovery (some think the 18th-century Wild Child of Aveyron was autistic).  It was codified in 1910 when  the psychiatrist Eugen Bleuler labeled one of the varieties of childhood schizophrenia “autistic.”  Identification.

Next came diagnosis – beginning with Hans Asperger in 1938 and Leo Kanner in 1943.   In the grip of modernity, slow acquisition of words, quirky communication, fixity of focus, failure to multitask, preoccupation with parts rather than wholes, and so on, are no longer signs of diabolical possession, thankfully.  But neither do they signal a broadened sense of what human experience is like.  They’re just signs of disease.

Diagnosis has allowed all sorts of theories to summon support:  about parenting, about the toxic environment, about thimerosal in vaccines, or about immunization itself.  Autism is the diagnosis that lets people express their misgivings about modernity.

Now we’re seeing the beginning of step 3:  biologization.

If autism is to stand up to 21st-century modernity, it has to have a biological basis.  Otherwise it will go the way of the obsolete disorders of old, like neurasthenia, hysteria, or frigidity.  The research on mitochondrial dysfunction in California won’t be the last or the only big-dollar expenditure aimed at finding a biochemical basis for the diagnosis of autism.   And there’ll be DNA studies, too.

The sad thing is that the only good way for troubled parents to get services for their children is to have the kids diagnosed, and to help to get them labeled as biologically off-kilter (Autism Speaks was one of the sponsors of the study just published in JAMA).  Get them labeled as dysfunctional, to use the term of art.

There’s no percentage in betting on need, or social disadvantage, or just plain poverty as an impetus to free up funds and services.  The need doesn’t count if there’s no dysfunction.   Your event doesn’t count as world-historic without a biological basis now.  First as tragedy, then as diagnosis, then as biology…

Autism, ADHD, obesity, addiction — each time our society is confronted with a problem it can’t solve or an irritation it can’t salve, we feed the problem into the medical establishment’s diagnosis mill.  Then we turn it over to the biologists to put some science on it.

Once the problem has a name and a diagnosis and a biological mishap to it — then we can see it.

The startling results of this study suggest that when left unchecked texting and other widely popular methods of staying connected can have dangerous health effects on teenagers.

(Aside to Dr. Frank:  C’mon, doc.  Do you not know that “hyper text” is already a term in wide usage? Do you know how sometimes there are underlined words, most often in blue, that, if you click on them with your mouse then you are magically transported to another website?  That’s it.  Do you realize that any teens who aren’t already laughing at you for your transparently hysterical research agenda have cause to snicker over your misuse of contemporary language?  But back to my point…)

The subject of a press release by the American Public Health Association, the study claims that teens who text  more than 120 times a day are, compared to light texters:

• 41% more likely to have used illicit drugs
• Nearly 3.5 times more likely to have had sex
• 90% more likely to report having had four or more sexual partners

The results were based on a survey of over 4,000 high school students in the midwest.

The paper, presented at the annual meeting of the APHA, is yet another indicator of the association’s redirection — from promoting social reform to becoming the Popular Front for the Promotion of Family Values.   The news media complied with the APHA’s mongering by publicizing Frank et al.’s findings, for instance here, and so did the usually serious WebMD.

Research like this is meant to say both “childhood is deadly” and “children are dangerous.”  Teenagers have sex, it says, and you grownups shouldn’t take that lightly.

The connection of teen sex and teen drug use to cell phones, iPhones, or the Internet appeals to people who think there is something new, and terrifying, about modernity.  As Carl Phillips notes over at ep-ology, it’s a way of saying “Beware the scary new technology!  It is causing teens to interact.”

Of course, there’s also a race, class, and sex angle:  The study reported that excessive texting (along with what the authors call “hyper-networking,” meaning excessive use of social network sites) is more common among girls, racial minorities, and kids whose parents have less education. One more reason to be suspicious of the poor and the dark-of-skin, says the Popular Front.

Especially, the APHA wants us to beware of girls.  The public health industry — the folks who reminded your grandparents that female sexual desire spreads disease with posters like this one, from the ’40s:

Source: U. of Minnesota, Social Welfare History Archives

… now tell us to watch out for girls who text.

Mike Stobbe at AP, covering the report, did a (typically) good job of looking deeper into the question.  About half of kids between the ages of 8 and 18 text each day, and the ones who do average 118 texts per day. While texting while driving is a really bad idea, texting about sex isn’t uncommon (Stobbe points out).  Unlike texting while driving, nobody dies from it.

Public heath shouldn’t be a matter of, as the Frank report put it, wake-up calls for parents.   Childhood really is dangerous in some places (Somalia, Congo, and Haiti come to mind, in case physician-researchers currently obsessed with sex amongst American teenagers are looking for something useful to do with their medical skills).  But it isn’t in America.   Sex, even between teenagers, really isn’t very scary.   There are a lot of things we adults could do to make the country and the world less miserable, but spying on our kids isn’t among them.

The anti-tobacco crusade is a modern-day version of Revivalist religious fervor.  It sure isn’t science.  And it isn’t about protecting people’s health.

The CDC estimates that 442,000 Americans die from tobacco smoking each year.  These estimates are slippery; they’re based on a fairly loose definition of what it means to die “from” a behavior — but let’s agree that a lot of people die sooner than they otherwise would because they smoke cigarettes.

Alternative ways of self-administering nicotine allow users to avoid the disastrously harmful drug-delivery device, the cigarette.  You’d think that Big Public Health, 45 years into a campaign to get people to stop smoking, would be promoting all sorts of safe methods of nicotine delivery.

That’s not what happens.  Instead, the industry pours anathema on light cigarettes, smokeless tobacco, and other safer-than-cigarettes products.

The latest sermon is an article in this month’s The Nation’s Health — the newsletter of the American Public Health Association (APHA, which has turned into the High Synod of Public Health Religion).  The article  claims that “New Types of Smokeless Tobacco Present Growing Risks for Youth.”

The title is a double rhetorical turn now (alas) typical of APHA:  (1) your kids are going to die, and (2) the “risk” to them is increasing.  The piece would seem silly if the author, named Kim Krisberg, weren’t so serious.  After all, it isn’t kids who die from smoking, and the risk of smoking-related death isn’t increasing at all.  But we’re not in the realm of truth here.

Since Big Public Health isn’t dealing in truth when it comes to tobacco, evidence isn’t part of the story.   The head of the Campaign for Tobacco-Free Kids can say “the time to stop the spread of dangerous products is before they become the fad of today,” insouciantly sidestepping the fact that smokeless tobacco products aren’t dangerous.  Brad Rodu’s invaluable website Tobacco Truth explains — see Brad’s June 16th post, for instance.  Or go to this page at the excellent resource TobaccoHarmReduction, or see this article published in Cancer Epidemiology, Biomarkers & Prevention in 2004.

The public health industry’s animus for tobacco leads it to label as harmful something that is really a boon to public health — the increasing use of products that provide nicotine without burning tobacco.  Surely it’s better to have people chewing nicotine-containing products that won’t harm them than to allow them to continue smoking tobacco in order to get a nicotine dose.

Moralistic fervor makes you stupid.  Stupid enough to write, as two physicians with FDA’s Center for Tobacco Products did,

As state and local communities across the United States adopt indoor clean-air laws that restrict smoking in public areas and workplaces, the tobacco industry seems increasingly focused on the development and introduction of novel smokeless tobacco products

… as if the tobacco industry were magically making Americans who would otherwise stop smoking suddenly crave smokeless tobacco — and as if that would be bad for them.  Drs. Deyton and Cruz, you should know better.

But Matthew Myer with Tobacco-Free Kids isn’t unintelligent.  Nor, I assume, are Deyton and Cruz.  And I can’t imagine they really want people to suffer.

Still, do they really think that safe non-smoked tobacco products are going to bewitch our kids?  Do they believe that apocalypse comes in a package of smokeless tobacco?

Are they just so obsessed with battling tobacco companies that they’ve lost sight of the aim of public health, i.e., to reduce suffering?

Or is it simpler?  Has the public health industry’s big-money anti-tobacco campaign allowed too many people to make too good a living by saying stupid things about tobacco?

The cigarette manufacturers have been scurrilous, dastardly, and sometimes appallingly inured to the misery and death their products have hastened.  Maybe they deserve the Myerses of the world.

But the public health industry could be a lot more focused on helping people to live less painful lives, and less obsessed with its private demons.

As Carl V. Phillips suggests in a post this week, the FDA will have to break with the public health industry’s moralism if people who use nicotine are going to protect themselves from cigarettes.

If the FDA can’t overcome Big Public Health’s obsession with satanic tobacco rituals, re-introduce truth into the discussion, and re-focus on making real people’s lives less miserable, the zealots are going to turn stupidity into bad policy.

What has changed?  How does the story of wrangling over the sodium content of American food merit space in the main news sections of the most influential media — even the front pages of the NY Times or LA Times?

1.  One answer is that health occupies much of the American conversation today.  A visitor from another planet watching our TV news shows or reading the main newspapers would have to be forgiven for thinking that Americans are dying from a multitude of irrepressible disease threats.  We can’t seem to stop talking about how to improve our health.

(In fact, as Michael Haines notes at the Economic History Association website, U.S. life expectancy almost doubled between 1850 and 1960, from 39.5 years to 70.7 years; since then it has increased slowly, and is now estimated to be about 78.2 years.  In other words, health wasn’t a matter of news much during the time when longevity was improving dramatically, in the late 19th century and first half of the 20th.  By the time health became a cultural preoccupation, the majority of Americans were living well past middle age.)

2.  Another answer, perhaps more important is that when we talk about health today we mean personal responsibility.

When I began studying epidemiology, in the late 1970s, public health essentially meant disease control.  Yes, lip service was paid to so-called health promotion — much was made of the World Health Organization’s definition of health, promulgated in 1946:

Health is a state of complete physical, mental and social well-being and not merely the absence of disease or infirmity.

But no metric for complete well-being was widely recognized.  And the usual epidemiologic measures of incidence and mortality rates, life expectancy, and so forth seemed to work just fine as ways of understanding why some groups of people lived longer and more capable lives, while others lived miserably and died young.

Sometime since then, the health sector, including public health, has turned to individual responsibility as the key to well-being.

If each of us is responsible for his or her own health, then it’s our own fault if we get sick.  Naturally, advice abounds:  buckle up, use a condom, eat less fat, know your cholesterol level, wash your hands, use mosquito repellent containing DEET, wear sunblock, eat fresh fruit and vegetables every day, lower your stress.

The advice adds up to this:  know your limits.  Federally sponsored research tells us that self-control is ontagious.

The personal-responsibility view of health says, “control your appetites.”

3.  But let’s think about another change:  more people are concerned about the American diet.  As noted last week, the food movement has given us ways to think about eating that go beyond the tiresome story of obesity and hypertension — Beyond Fat and Salt, you could say.

Of course, the main media outlets still tell the food story in Fat-and-Salt language, as the news articles in the NY Times, LA Times, and others show.  It’s the food industry vs. the foodies, or the food industry vs. public health, or the food industry and public health vs. appetites — anyway, somebody against somebody in the name of health.

The media aren’t quite past obesity and hypertension yet.  But as the culture moves beyond obsessive self-inspection in the name of health, no doubt media will, too.

Reviewing five books on what he calls the “food movements,” Pollan notes the widespread discontent with contemporary industrialized food production (I’ll call this “American eating,” although its dominance is increasing around the world).  And he suggests that its common theme is cultural discomfort. The food movement, Pollan argues, has “set out to foster new forms of civil society”:

It makes sense that food and farming should become a locus of attention for Americans disenchanted with consumer capitalism.  Food is the place in daily life where corporatization can be most vividly felt…  The corporatization of something as basic and intimate as eating is, for many of us today, a good place to draw the line.

This is a refreshing insight.  It’s thankfully broad, taking  the focus away from health, and therefore from the anti-obesity crusade and the “toxic food environment” view promoted by health advocates.

But Pollan’s perspective is especially refreshing because it renews the conversation about our private lives — particularly the extent to which we’ve ceded our innermost values to the demands of corporate profit and government policies.  And those demands, as Marion Nestle often points out (recently here), are generally linked.

Pollan reminds us that our innermost values are literally innermost:  they have to do with what goes into our stomachs.

I’ve already stated my argument that the anti-obesity crusade is really about control, not health (see here and here).   The crusaders do cite “public health” as a rationale for the war against obesity.  But when they describe what’s wrong, they do so in terms that are sometimes medical (diabetes, hypertension), sometimes technical (serving sizes, calorie counts, the infamous toxic food environment), and sometimes medieval (gluttony, laziness).  Their inability to articulate the source of the problem is a signal that they’re sure something is out of control but unsure exactly what.

The public health approach to obesity is a failure.  It doesn’t let us talk about what needs to be reformed.  And it’s often allied with efforts to make sure the poor stay poor — even though wealth inequality is surely part of the problem in the first place.  The public health industry’s demands for additional regressive taxation in the form of increased “fat” taxes on sugary beverages or high-calorie foods reveal its preference for the status quo.  Make the poor pay more for their soda and fast food; that will make them think twice about supporting industries that are making us fat.

Even well-meaning public health professionals who advocate government intervention against low-price-but-low-nutrition food  as a way of curtailing obesity ignore the central role of food and eating to liberty and happiness — they’re interested primarily in how many additional years of life (however unhappy) could be purchased by trading in the fries in favor of broccoli.  Or, worse, they’re interested only in the dollar costs to taxpayers — in terms of hypertension and heart disease — of tolerating obesity.

Pollan, today’s most thoughtful and insightful philosopher on the subject of food and eating, offers a more satisfying view.  Sure, you may want to change American eating because you think obesity is bad for people’s health.   But you might want to change eating simply because the food scene is distressing, because it crystallizes and exemplifies the many ways that we give over our private (innermost!) moral decisions to the influences of corporate/consumerist thinking.  You might want to change it because, as Pollan reminds us (in regard to a new book by Janet Flammang), the dominance of American statecraft by corporations allows the preparation of food to be relegated to the least valued, least powerful, and lowest paid workers.  You might want food to taste better — valuing pleasure over longevity.

With Pollan’s broad view, you  don’t have to join the anti-obesity crusade.  You don’t have to speak the technical language of risk.  The common language of freedom, desire, and pleasure will do.

May CDC become a force for real public health, not an advocate for the risk-avoidance canard.  May the new director, Dr. Frieden, stop favoring pharmaceutical companies’ profit making through expansion of immunization.  And may he direct the agency to begin to address legitimate public needs, like sound answers about vaccines and autism, and clear communication about what is — and isn’t — dangerous about obesity.

May WHO officials stop playing with the pandemic threat barometer.  May WHO begin demanding that the world’s wealthy countries devote at least the same resources to stopping diarrheal diseases, malaria, and TB as they do to dealing with high-news-value problems like new strains of flu.   Diarrheal illness kills as many children in Africa and Asia in any given week as the 2009 swine flu killed Americans in eight months.  So does malaria.   Direct policy, and money, toward sanitation, pure water free of parasites, adequate treatment of TB, mosquito control, and prevention of other causes of heavy mortality in the developing world — not just flu strains that threaten North America, Europe, and Japan.

May public health professionals lose their obsessions with bad habits. May the public health profession return to the problem of ensuring basic rights — access to sufficient food, clean water, decent housing, good education, a livable wage, and adequate child care — and ease up on its moralistic obsessions with nicotine and overeating (for recent examples of the preoccupation with tobacco, see this article or this one (abstracts here; subscription needed for full articles) in recent issues of the American Journal of Public Health).

May science be what Joanne Manaster does at her incomparable website: looking at the world with wonder, asking without dogmatic preconceptions how it works, and accepting that its irrepressible quirkiness makes it impossible to know the world perfectly.  May science not be the crystal-ball-gazing thing whose so-called “scientific” forecasts are really doomsday scenes worthy of the medieval Church — predictions of liquefied icecaps and rising seas,  hundreds of millions of deaths in a flu pandemic, or catastrophic plagues sparked by people with engineered smallpox virus.  There are plenty of reasons to be concerned about both the environment and disease outbreaks based on sound here-and-now observations; leave the forecasts of Apocalypse to the clergy, who know how to handle dread.

A new year’s wish (from the valedictory exhortation in Tony Kushner’s Angels in America):  “More life!”

Nutty, but not so terrible, perhaps.  The policy is a transparent attempt by a not-so-wealthy university to seem au courant and curry favor with donors, who might like the idea that the school is addressing obesity — which the public health industry keeps insisting is a terrible problem facing young people.

Really, the obese-student policy at Lincoln doesn’t demand much.  Some students have to work out for a few hours a week (it’s a 1-credit course).  Not how they want to spend their time, probably pointless in terms of their health, but not the end of the world.

But pay attention to the commentary.

The director of another university’s center on higher-education law and policy voices concern — not over Lincoln’s feeble gesture at controlling fatness , but over medical confidentiality.  “Being put in a class with other ‘at-risk’ BMI’s walks a little close to disclosure,” he told the Chronicle.

The implication here is that obesity is an illness, and therefore only a physician should be allowed to know that you have it.  Certainly, your classmates shouldn’t.

How can obesity, of all things, be thought of as a secret that would only be revealed if you got into gym shorts and showed up on the treadmill in the fat-students’ class?

There’s a clue in the use of the term “at risk”:  obesity is like sleeping around without using condoms, driving drunk, or smoking near your kids  — it’s supposed to be both dangerous and shameful.  You would only admit being “at risk” to your doctor (who would, we have to assume, dutifully dissuade you from following your naughty instincts).

At the NYT blog The Choice, Rebecca Ruiz notes that the Lincoln faculty will be discussing the problem tomorrow.  So far, there’s been plenty of skepticism there, but a few defenders of the fat-class policy.  And most of the comments responding to Ruiz have been supportive of the idea that a university might require physical exercise.

What isn’t getting mentioned is race.  Is the policy popular because Lincoln is one of only two HBCUs in Pennsylvania, and some of the much-discussed “adverse outcomes” of obesity are conditions that are common among African Americans?  Do people feel  relieved that a predominantly African-American university is addressing a problem that seems somehow racial?  Do we feel reassured that a college that  doesn’t serve America’s traditional wealthy elite is taking on a problem that seems to be a threat to the elite — and a threat that seems born of the bad habits of the poor, especially the dark-and-poor?

Obesity is more common among people who identify themselves as African Americans — even at colleges, as a recently published study showed.  Here, and worldwide, obesity is mostly a problem of poverty.

Doesn’t obesity’s taint stem, at least partly, from the way it reminds Americans of poor people — and the dark-skinned poor in particular?

This month’s American Journal of Public Health brings us a primer (abstract here; subscription required for full text), written by lawyers supported by the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, teaching “policymakers to avoid potential constitutional problems in the formation of obesity prevention policy.”

The article isn’t exactly a Steal This Book for the anti-obesity crusaders, but the authors’ stated aim is to help those crusaders skirt legal challenges to statutes that might, for instance, ban fast foods or require the posting of accurate calorie counts on restaurant menus:  “This primer is meant not to deter obesity prevention efforts but to foster them,” the authors adumbrate.

Of course, the anti-obesity crusade is well on its way to using the law to tighten the control of behavior already.  And the failure of restaurant calorie counts to show any effect on eating patterns isn’t dampening enthusiasm, it seems.

Brian Elbel of NYU and colleagues just reported in Health Affairs that the calorie counts now posted by law in New York (another piece of legislation backed by our bluenose mayor) don’t affect how much people eat,  based on a study of over a thousand New Yorkers from minority neighborhoods (abstract here, full article here).  At Freakonomics, Stephen Dubner surmises that this sort of program only helps people “who are already the most vigilant about their health and well-being.”  But it’s hard to find anyone in public health who is opposed.

They should be.   The public health industry, which likes to claim its main interest is human dignity, should be lobbying for less regulation of human appetites, not more.

But public health is often the pre-eminent paradigm of control in our society. Rename the acts or traits you find morally repugnant as diseases, and you can hand them to the health sector for management.   Once you say you’ve got an epidemic on your hands, you can count on the public health industry to respond.  Alcoholism, addiction, smoking, obesity, social anxiety… there seems to be a big supply of epidemics that used to be moral offenses or threats to the social order and are now opportunities for your doctor or your health commissioner — not your clergyman — to tell you how to act.

The neat thing about the control exercised through public health is that you never have to sermonize, read Bible verses, or prophesy Apocalypse.  The rhetoric of risk is a lot easier for the self-professed progressives in public health to swallow than religious sermonizing would be.  Even when the sermon and the risk rhetoric have the identical goal: wiping out the moral offense.

From Junkfood Science, we learn that

Employers will now perform random tests of employees for evidence that they’ve smoked outside of work and will weigh employees in the workplace and report their BMIs to the state. Employees deemed noncompliant with the State Health Plan’s employer wellness initiative, will pay one-third-more for health insurance. Employers believed that eliminating smokers and fat people would lower health costs.

And from WSJ Health Blog, that the CEO of pharmaceutical corporation Schering-Plough agreed (at a meeting at the Cleveland Clinic) that people with unhealthy behavior should pay more for health insurance.  Sure — you certainly wouldn’t want the wealthy to pay more.

That’s not the only problem with the public health industry’s vigorous embrace of behavioral control, but it’s a big one.  Start classifying people based on how they behave, and you begin discriminating against the ones who don’t act right.  But the ones who you think don’t act right are almost always the ones society was already discriminating against — the poor, most of all.

And even when the poor aren’t getting shafted in the crusade against the unhealthy, inquiry about how a just society should work is going down the tubes.  The profound moral-philosophical questions of what is the right way to live a life, the right way to raise children, the nature of liberty, and so forth, are surrendered in the public health paradigm – replaced with the simple dichotomy:  healthy vs. not-healthy.

The NEJM paper argues that there would be health benefits of a tax on sugar-sweetened drinks — preferably to take the form of about a penny’s worth of excise tax levied per fluid ounce for any beverage containing “added caloric sweetener” (possibly to be defined as more than 1 g of sugar per 30 ml of beverage).

There’s much to be learned by the response.  The NY Times article, in its Business section Wednesday, was titled “Proposed Tax on Sugary Beverages Debated” but was generally slanted strongly in favor of the proposal.  If you read only the Times, you would think that objections to the tax come only from industry, which obviously has an economic interest in keeping sales of soda and sport drinks up by keeping the price down.

Shirley S. Wang at yesterday’s WSJ Health Blog adds some insight.  She points out that a 2-liter bottle of soda subject to the proposed tax, assuming the tax is entirely passed along to consumers in the form of higher prices, would still be much cheaper than a half-gallon of orange juice.

James Knickman of the NY State Health Foundation, writing in the NY Daily News last week, acknowledged that a soda tax would be essentially regressive, affecting the poor more powerfully than it does the wealthy.  He urges that

To counteract the soda tax’s regressive nature, revenue generated from the tax should go to health-related programs that benefit the poor – essentially putting the money back into their pockets. The revenue could be used for myriad initiatives, including subsidies for federal health reform – which is estimated to cost $1 trillion over the next 10 years – subsidies of fresh fruits and vegetables and other healthy foods in low-income community grocery stores, and food stamp increases for the purchase of fresh fruit and vegetables.

Knickman gets at one of the main purposes of a tax like this:  to get the poor to pay more of the costs of doing business.

But what isn’t being discussed, it seems, is the underlying logic.

First, there’s the assumption that obesity is uniformly and intensely bad.  The NEJM article begins with the statement “The consumption of sugar-sweetened beverages has been linked to risks for obesity, diabetes, and heart disease,” citing three articles — two of them authored, in part, by the same men who helped write this week’s soda-tax NEJM article.

What’s the point of the misleading opening in the NEJM paper (apart from getting some additional citations for the authors’ other work)?  The line suggests that drinking sugar-added beverages causes heart disease, yet no evidence suggests that.  Extra calories might add up to extra weight, some people (less than half) who have BMIs in the “obese” range report having diabetes, and diabetes can predispose to heart disease — but the NEJM authors make it seem that the sugar-heart connection is somehow direct.  The point is to create an impression of uniform and unavoidable harm. Who would want to be for heart disease?

The supposition that obesity is a terrible illness responsible for broad impairments to Americans’ health — a premise that the soda tax depends on –  is amply and cogently criticized in a series of posts by Sandy Szwarc at Junkfood Science (start here, for instance, or here).  In fact, epidemiologic studies point to a relatively small effect of obesity on mortality, primarily at the upper end of the weight-for-height (body mass index, BMI) scale.  A careful analysis of national survey data from a few years ago (Flegal et al., JAMA 2005) shows that the effect of high BMI on mortality has been declining over time and almost entirely vanishes after age 70.  In fact, some studies point to a protective effect of high BMI for older Americans.

And the claim that increasing the price of sugary beverages is a suitable inducement to Americans to change their behavior rests on standard — but flawed — economists’ analysis.  It’s rational choice theory come home to roost at your refrigerator door.  If you know that it’s going to cost two bucks and a half to replace that 2-liter bottle of root beer in the fridge, you’ll drink it more sparingly than if it cost only $1.29, the theory goes.  Here is where the regressive aspect comes in.  It’s primarily to the poor that coming up with $2.50 for a bottle of root beer seems substantially more difficult than $1.29.  Here, the soda tax reveals itself as just another attempt to get members of what is perhaps America’s most despised ethnicity — the poor — to “fix” their behavior.

And it all rests on a premise so common we might call it the American assumption:  that people only do things that might harm their health because they don’t know any better or because they can’t stop themselves.  Ergo, laws and rules, to make sure everyone knows where and how to draw the line — taxes, bans on smoking in restaurants (or, perhaps soon, parks) and bans on serving trans fats, removal into foster care of kids whose mothers use drugs, prosecution of parents whose kids are too fat, et cetera.  And of course, we need the products that will provide substitute enjoyment or relief.  Thus:  sugar-free soda, trans-fat-free potato chips, Prozac and other SSRIs, diet books, gyms, alcohol-free beer, and so on.

And we need it all to be wrapped up and rationalized in the language of avoiding risk.

Apparently, it isn’t plausible to the doctors and scientists who wrote the NEJM paper, or the legislators who are eager to institute the proposed soda tax, that people might drink too much soda — or eat too much, or smoke, or stay home and watch TV instead of jogging — with full awareness of the possible consequences.   In the risk-free zone of America as envisaged by the public health industry, only the insane and the uninformed would engage in “risky behavior.”

Nobody, in risk-free America, does anything because it feels good, knowing it might be harmful.  Nobody overeats because it brings her pleasure, nobody screws without a condom because it turns him on, nobody smokes because she had a bad day or a good day or because the day hasn’t started but it looks unpromising, nobody rides her bike without a helmet because she likes the feel of the wind in her hair.  It’s risky.  We all know better.

The libertarians think it’s big government you give up your private choices to, and the progressives think it’s big business.  But really, it’s neither — or both, working together.  And the public health and medical industries are complicit.  It’s not a conspiracy.  It’s more like religion.

Yesterday, according to an Associate Press report, Frieden sermonized that “obesity and … diabetes are the only major health problems that are getting worse in this country, and they’re getting worse rapidly.”  Now, Dr. Frieden heads the agency that collects data on illness and calculates disease rates; presumably, he knows that many conditions are either increasing now or have risen to high levels from which they have not retreated — MRSA, Lyme disease, injuries in certain occupations, and foodborne illness, to name just a few.

But as Dr. Frieden’s campaigns in New York City against trans fats, unprotected sex, and TB sufferers who didn’t take their meds  revealed, when there is a moral battle to be fought the facts just get in the way.

The impetus for yesterday’s obesity sermon was a study by investigators at RTI who had determined that “obesity-related diseases” account for over 9 percent of U.S. healthcare costs.  Most people who suffer from most of the so-called obesity related conditions are not actually obese.  Even diabetes, the one most commonly associated with obesity in the popular mind (and, apparently, Dr. Frieden’s) occurs more often among people who are not and have never been obese than it does among those who are obese.  So the study was really showing that obesity accounts for much less than 9 percent of healthcare costs.

But that wasn’t the only problem.  While the RTI study found that obese people spend 40 percent more than comparison “normal” people on health, most of the increase in spending was related to pharmaceuticals.  So one might ask if it was obesity that was increasing expenditures, or the price of certain drugs.

Furthermore, there’s no way to know whether being fat was causing the obesity group in this study to be sick in ways that cost more money, or if they were fat because they were unwell in the first place.

In fact, the study wasn’t designed to test whether becoming obese led to an increase in medical expenditure — which might have shed some light on the question of whether obesity causes higher costs.  Many people in the study had no  expenditures at all for certain types of healthcare costs.  But the researchers weren’t interested in finding out whether obesity sometimes costs nothing at all, so they used an adjustment technique to allow them to relate obesity to predicted expenditures.

Finally, the estimate of percentage of total healthcare costs attributed to obesity-related expenditure was based on the assumption that obese people who return to “normal” weight suffer no consequences of their weight loss — an assumption that is well known to be false.

So it’s a falsehood to state on the basis of the RTI findings that obesity is accounting for a tenth of American healthcare costs — although AP, Reuters, and other media outlets so claimed in covering the Frieden sermon.

In fact, a lucid assessment of the findings would ask why, if obesity is supposedly up 37% among Americans and if two-thirds of Americans are now overweight or obese, obesity would account for only 9% of costs?  Surely if obesity is so bad, increasing its prevalence by more than a third would be swamping the healthcare industry with fat people.

But the whole appeal of a sermon is that it isn’t based on fact or lucid assessment of the present reality. It’s based on suppositions about the future with a steadfast moral foundation.  Frieden has the supposition and he has the moralism.  His religion is that it’s up to the “community” to perfect itself.

As Shirley Wang at WSJ Health Blog reports,  Dr. Frieden believes that  increasing availability and decreasing price of healthy foods, while decreasing availability and increasing  price of unhealthy ones, “is likely to be effective.” He claims that the decision to adopt such a strategy “is a political one.”

But of course it isn’t political in its essence; it’s moral.  When the community is told to perfect itself it rises to the occasion by looking to the usual moral suspects:  women, especially pregnant women or mothers; the uneducated; the poor.  Last fall, Frank Furedi discussed the moral underpinnings of British authorities’ removal of fat children from their parents’ homes.  And we can hope he’ll have something to say about what’s happening in the U.S., where the community policing can be even worse:  a few days ago, a South Carolina mother was arrested and charged with neglect for having a son who weighs over 500 pounds.  Other states have contemplated other methods of dealing with parents who violate the community standards of parenting.  Not by hitting their kids, starving them, or forcing them to work — but by allowing them to get fat.

Obesity is offensive, it seems, in just the way that sexual license and intemperance with alcohol have been found offensive by some.  And just as the problem with sex and drinking has been found in the environment — in “peer pressure,” the “latchkey phenomenon,” TV advertising, Hollywood, and the decline in “family values” — so it is with obesity.  “We did not get to this situation … because of any change in our genetics or any change in our food preferences,” Frieden adumbrated.  “We got to this stage of the epidemic because of a change in our environment and only a change in our environment again will allow us to get back to a healthier place,”

It isn’t obvious what to do when appetites produce offense — so it’s handy to claim that the environment is at fault and then to hand the problem to public health.  Because for certain health officials, it’s always clear what to do:  Take the moral high path, clean up the offending elements, urge the community to police itself better.  If more parents are arrested… well, perfection has its price.

Back in April, a fast-food establishment in Leytonstone, in the northeastern part of London, was shut down as a public-health threat.  As Patrick Hayes explains at Spiked, a 2009 initiative of the local council, called the Sustainable Community Strategy, outlaws the establishment of new carry-outs within 400 meters of a school.

Supporting the rhetoric, Professor Kathy Pritchard-Jones, president of the European Society for Paediatric Oncology, stated in February that “If we don’t … tackl[e] how much exercise our young people take and how concerned they are about what they eat and their weight, we are going to have another explosion of cancers.”

Last week, the U.K.’s Environment Secretary, Hillary Benn, invoked the fight against obesity as rationale for increasing access to open spaces, asserting that “green spaces are good for us” – a pitch which moved Spike’s sharp-eyed Rob Lyons to note that “You can’t even go for a stroll these days without it being turned into a health initiative,” and to anticipate that “chubby people [will be] quick-marched around a south London park for 30 minutes on a regular basis to help them lose excess pounds.”

There are so many pieces to the fanfare over the “obesity threat” that it’s impossible to assign one cause for the commotion. For a long time, Junkfood Science has investigated the sociology of the “science” of obesity in detail, and has exploded many of the central myths of the anti-obesity movement – most importantly the apocrypha about fatness and mortality.

And Paul Campos’s brilliant book The Obesity Myth (Gotham, 2004) explains how a constellation of wealthy industries together support the lose-weight-now rhetoric.

Elizabeth Kolbert’s assessment of some new books on the topic in this week’s New Yorker embraces the tired rhetoric, assuming that fat is bad and asking why people eat so much.  To her credit, Kolbert takes the plunge into examining the new field of fat studies.  But she ends up disparaging fat studies for “effectively all[ying] itself with McDonald’s and the rest of the processed-food industry, while opposing the sorts of groups that advocate better school-lunch programs and more public parks.” Apparently, asking that fatness be examined in the context of both social structures and individual liberties strays too far from the central dogma of the anti-obesity crusade.  To which (pace Hillary Benn) public parks are balm and tasty fries are anathema.

But an often-neglected aspect of the anti-obesity panic is the overtone of class and the undertone of race. In Leytonstone, for instance, it turns out that the community has been troubled by the profusion of cheap eating establishments, especially in regard to the “anti-social behaviour” that it supposedly brings.

Yet, as Hayes notes at Spiked, it was a Jamaican establishment that was singled out for closure – while more echt-English outlets, like fish-and-chips shops, have been ignored.  The decision that behavior is anti-social being always in the eyes of the beholder – or the skin color of the beheld.

In most of the developed world, fatness is more common among the poor.  In the U.S., it is far more common among African Americans.  Obesity is a marker for being out of power.  To assert that you are against obesity is to state that you intend to identify with those who have power, and mean to keep it.  You can wag your finger at the misdemeanants who eat fast food and fail to exercise — without having to come out and say that what is really troubling you is that your people are starting to look like those people – like the poor, like the dark-complected … like the fat.

No wonder the anti-obesity rhetoric has heated up in Britain, and is catching on in Europe.  It’s a winning way to wage the war against the poor and unentitled, without having to seem arrogant or racist.

The CDC’s travelers’ health website recommends vaccination against typhoid (as well as hepatitis A and B, and routine childhood immunizations) for travelers visiting small towns and villages in Ukraine.  Since we expect to be doing exactly that, we opted to be immunized.

Picking up the oral typhoid vaccine at a pharmacy in the Bronx made us reflect on inequities in health, and inequalities of opportunity.  How odd, to stand in an air-conditioned pharmacy on a busy street in New York City and prepare to fortify oneself against a disease that, here, we consider of historical interest.  Typhoid makes us think of the sad episode of Mary Mallon, the infamous typhoid carrier, and the struggles of Almroth Wright to develop a vaccine that would limit the terrible toll that typhoid took on British troops in the Boer War.  All a very long time ago.

That typhoid is still a public health problem in much of the world attests to real differences in opportunity.  Clean drinking water, and the sanitary systems that allow water to stay clean, being aspects of opportunity.

The American conversation about health uses the grammar of risk.  Our health professionals talk about the possibility that illness will ensue if people persist in some behavior (smoking, inhaling others’ cigarette smoke, using certain pharmaceuticals, driving while intoxicated, etc.), if authorities fail to inform, if vaccine isn’t produced on time.  But a sense of scale is lost.

Flu preoccupies the risk conversation right now, for obvious reasons having to do with the current outbreak of H1N1 influenza.  The risk conversation sometimes appeals to the terrible pandemic of 1918, the worst single-strike disease outbreak of all time.  But it doesn’t often recall that, in the United States, the 1918 flu spared over 99% of the population.

The talk of risk, the sometimes-lurid conversation about what might happen, almost always occupies itself with the tiny tail of the broad distribution of health – the minuscule proportion of the population that, even in a frightening outbreak, actually dies from it.

What’s left out is the real situation that confronts most people, most of the time.  Not the sudden outbreak, but the persistent struggle to stave off more mundane problems that rarely appear in the media.

Junkfood Science this week reminds us to keep the care in health care.  Care seems relevant here.  The risk conversation gives us clues – sometimes valuable ones – about how to diminish somewhat the number of people who are sickened or killed by a threat, like flu.  But to really get at people’s health – to offer a more thoroughgoing and humanistic form of care – will mean moving past the narrow conversation about risk, and asking about opportunity.

It isn’t risk that keeps most people from achieving capabilities — from escaping poverty, living comfortably, or being free of disability.  It’s more usually bad water, bad food, or just bad government.  A broader and more effective health conversation would start with the conditions of living, and not be preoccupied with the risks of illness alone.

This week, the city’s health department announces that it wants to require thousands of retailers who sell tobacco products to put up posters with the same disgust-inducing images – as Jennifer 8. Lee noted at the Times‘s City Room blog on Wednesday and an AP story (picked up by Newsday) explained on Thursday.

And it won’t be little stickers the stores are required to put up:  these posters would have to be at least a foot-and-a-half square.

It looks like the city’s health agency is going to continue its program of treating New Yorkers like we’re stupid and reckless, despite the departure of the bluenose Dr. Thomas Frieden (who left NYC to become CDC Director this month).  The prevailing view at the health department seems to be that officials have to keep sermonizing or we dumb slobs will slide back into bad habits.

As Jan Barrett noted Thursday, people who smoke nowadays know quite well what they’re doing, and why.

Barrett, an ex-smoker, notes that “every time I lit up a cigarette I was fully aware of what it was doing to my body. I mean how can any smoker not know these days what smoking can do to them? There are warning signs everywhere. I don’t care how many warning signs I saw or heard about I still lit that cigarette every morning.”

The health department claims that negative advertising will help convince smokers they should quit. But smokers don’t need to be convinced — about 70% of smokers have tried to quit, and (as the above comment exemplifies) some of those who don’t quit are aware of the dangers but smoke anyway.

The department also claims the gruesome-ad campaign will dissuade teens from taking up smoking to begin with.  But retail stores wouldn’t be the place to post the ads, then – since the shops aren’t permitted to sell to minors in any case (nor would TV: if it were teenagers who were watching baseball games, there wouldn’t be so many Viagra ads).

We might think that resorting to a signage campaign like this is a cover-up for inactivity, but it isn’t:  the health department already runs a vigorous program of smoking-cessation activities , which can include nicotine-replacement therapies.

No, the new gruesome-poster initiative isn’t about health; it’s closer to religion.  The images of smoking-induced damage are iconography.

Frank Furedi calls this sort of thing secular moral entrepreneurship.

The iconography of the religion of risk avoidance is meant to remind sinners – people who eat the wrong foods, don’t exercise enough, have sex without condoms, fail to take medication for our depression, or smoke cigarettes — that it might be rigorous to follow the True Faith of Health, but it’s worth it.  “Look at how others have suffered in order to learn what you now know,” they say.  “How can you go on with your nasty ways when you’ve got a chance to save yourself?”

The city’s new health commissioner, Dr. Thomas Farley, is apparently as ardent as Frieden about browbeating and hectoring people who fail to comply with health guidelines.  The television advertising and the signage isn’t meant to make the population healthier – its job is to remind us how to behave, and the consequences of impropriety.

Frieden tried hard to reconfigure the role of the health official in 21st-century America.  He seemed to have recognized that health is on the main stage now in the policy theater.  And he’s been searching for a new role for the public-health physician.  As DemFromCT points out in yesterday’s DailyKos, Frieden handled the swine flu crisis well.  All good.

Still, it’s hard to applaud Frieden for his work during his tenure as commissioner here in NY.  Perhaps he couldn’t stand in the way of the moral juggernaut driven by mayor Mike Bloomberg.  Or maybe Frieden’s medical focus makes him share some of Bloomberg’s fervid disdain for the nasty bits of urban life — the smoking, the quick noshes, the hook-ups — even if not the bluenose moralism.  What can’t be denied is that Dr. Frieden and Mayor Bloomberg together promoted the myth that bad health is purely a matter of bad behavior.

The myth was an alarming break with the reality of the real causes of poor health, but it played well.  There was the ban on smoking in bars, the ban on serving trans fats, the constant hectoring about what we eat and how much of it, and the finger wagging about AIDS “complacency” and our failure to use condoms.  There were the restaurant closings on account of violating the health code (that was after the City’s health department had been embarrassed by media reports of rats in a number of food establishments).  Those were aspects of the stagecraft that has characterized the Bloomberg reign in NYC, but none of them had much impact on the city’s health.

What there wasn’t, under Bloomberg-Frieden, was any discussion of how to improve health through providing better housing – and Dr. Frieden seems to have raised no objection to the mayor’s new plan to charge homeless people rent for staying in city shelters. In fact, housing was off the health agenda entirely – although it has always been on Bloomberg’s, usually in the form of deals that would sell to developers middle-income housing or the land it stands on — even though decent housing would arguably have made more difference to the health of more people than trans fats ever would.

Neither did Dr. Frieden ever publicly argue for funding for public schools or prep-for-college programs on the grounds that education translates into better health.   Great opportunities for real change were passed up in favor of preserving the myth of behavioral risk.

In the recent crisis over swine flu, Frieden was statesmanlike – and we have to hope he’ll show similar circumspection and gravitas as CDC Director.   At Effect Measure, revere points out the need for good management at CDC.  But we also have to hope that, once free of Bloomberg, Dr. Frieden doesn’t bring the same moralistic sermonizing to the matter of disease control.