RFK Jr.'s MAHA Cooking Show Is Government Propaganda. I Kind of Love It? (opinion)

We're now three episodes into The Real Food Show, a YouTube cooking class hosted by Health and Human Services (HHS) Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. And I'm hooked. Don't get me wrong: In principle, I hate it. The government has no place being in the business of making cooking shows. And this one is rife with propaganda, including thanking President Donald Trump for the new U.S. dietary guidelines and casual mentions of things like fisheries regulation or an executive order on regenerative agriculture. Even if you can put aside the ick-factor of HHS trying to sneak political content to viewers like some parents might hide broccoli in muffins, this just makes it a worse show. As a cultural or entertainment product, it would be better off without random references to the likes of the Magnuson-Stevenson Act. Besides, the presence of RFK Jr., who hosts each episode alongside a popular chef, doesn't add much. He spends most of each episode whisking eggs or doing some other sort of kitchen-helper task while the guest chef talks. Then he periodically bursts in with some propaganda while elbow-deep in chickpea salad. Still, it's propaganda that I happen to mostly agree with. Some former dietary guidelines weren't great, and they were all too often influenced by corporate and agricultural interest groups. You should eat eggs. Fiber is good for gut health. Eating protein with meals is important, even if that message has gotten a little distorted between health experts' lips and the grocery aisle (protein Doritos, anyone?). And do you know how long I have been ranting to anyone interested—which is, admittedly, very few people—about how Americans' ratio of omega-6 fatty acids to omega-3 fatty acids is all off? Answer: Since about 15 years ago, when I first read Susan Allport's The Queen of Fats, an ahead-of-its-time 2008 book challenging conventional wisdom about saturated fats and the root of American disease. Now, this is dietary canon in the Trump administration's HHS. That's cool. But it's also puzzling. Not that long ago, talking about nutrition at all—and especially about things like nutritional yeast, or microbiomes, or cooking with apple cider vinegar (all mentioned in The Real Food Show)—was very liberal-coded. Republicans pilloried former President Barack Obama as a hopelessly out-of-touch elite for mentioning arugula. They mocked Michelle Obama and complained that she was interfering too much in people's personal lives when she told Americans to eat more vegetables and take walks. Obama-era nutrition advice from the government wasn't perfect. For instance, it was somewhat stuck in a late–20th century fear of fats. Some of it was rooted in dubious science around nudging people to make smarter food choices. But conservatives weren't just quibbling over whether people are better off drinking skim milk or whole milk, or where to place apples in school lunchrooms. They branded the whole idea of government giving dietary or health advice as nannyism and made a big show of drinking giant sodas and eating junk food. They equated manliness with meatiness, and freedom with not giving a heck about healthy eating. Now, a Republican administration is trying to teach people how to cook an arugula salad with a homemade dressing. They're showing people how to swap the tuna in tuna salad for chickpeas and urging people to get eggs from regenerative farms. The shift is fascinating. (I did a deep dive into the subject last summer in 'Trad Wives and Tallow Fries: How the Wellness Wars Flipped Health and Food Politics Upside Down.') And, on one level, it's commendable, too. If government authorities are going to take a side in food politics—and in some ways, it's unavoidable, such as with things like school lunches or the Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program—I'd rather them be on the side of good health. RFK Jr. and his ilk are attempting to change the political valence attached to healthy eating and the narrative around caring about nutrition. That could be valuable in general, and specifically when it comes to changing the habits of conservatives, who are unlikely to be reached by the typical (that is: left-leaning) politicians who promote healthy eating. Besides, going about it by putting out cooking shows is a lot better than levying sin taxes on sugary drinks and instituting bans on bad foods. And the premise of this one is pretty cool: healthy but appetizing recipes that one can make quickly and on the cheap, using basic kitchen tools, served alongside little tidbits of information about nutrition science that help explain the why behind the ingredients being used. It comes off smart but not pretentious. Even a little bit folksy. And accessible—I came away wanting to make this food and also empowered to feel like I could (which is not the case with many cooking shows). To be honest, I'm a little conflicted. I think that people eating more 'real food' and learning about nutrition is really beneficial. But I also know how government works—and how these things have a way of mission creeping. Once authorities make up their minds to change American diets, it seldom stops at advocating for voluntary, individual actions alone. I also worry about myopia in the Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) movement, of which RFK Jr. is a figurehead. Some MAHA types seem so invested in shifting away from earlier eras of nutrition advice that they embrace unproven fads, or demonize substances—like seed oils—about which the evidence is still mixed. Look, I've also been on an anti-seed oil kick for a long time (it goes back to that omega-3/omega-6 balance I mentioned earlier). But if I'm wrong about that—and I may very well be—it only affects me and my household. When the government gives dietary advice, or promotes particular ingredients over others, it has a much broader reach. So, sure, one might oppose the show for fiscal grounds (our tax dollars are funding this?) or from a high-level 'this isn't the proper role of government' perch. To me, the biggest problem is practical: What if RFK Jr. and his cooking cohorts are wrong? When you give advice the imprimatur of the federal government, a lot of people may take it as indisputable truth. But dietary authorities have been wrong before, and they'll be wrong again. They might even be wrong right now. And let's say they're right. There's still a question of whether something like The Real Food Show can actually change habits. The first episode, from July 30, has more than 309,000 views as of this writing—not a smash hit in internet terms but on par with the average viewership of some popular Food Network shows. But the second episode, posted three weeks ago, has just 159,000 views, suggesting perhaps some diminishing returns on interest. And what really matters, from a public health perspective, is not just whether people are watching but whether anyone's actually making these recipes and putting this advice into action. There's not great evidence that teaching people to cook healthy meals makes much of a difference in health outcomes, at least not in the short term. And if in-person instruction doesn't move the needle all that much, what are the chances that YouTube videos will? 'There is a specific gap between the evidence base and what HHS has built,' suggests Dorothy Brooks at Medical Daily. There's also been no indication from HHS of how they plan to assess this program. 'Nothing in the [HHS] announcement indicates whether the series will be evaluated for reach or effect,' Brooks points out. Without measurable goals and benchmarks, this falls somewhere between a boondoggle and a vanity project. Still, it's a fun one. And there are a lot worse things that RFK Jr. could be spending his time on, along with many worse ways that the federal government could be promoting public health. I'll keep watching, and I may even cook some of these recipes. But I'll also be sure to consume it with a hefty grain of (sustainably sourced) salt. The post RFK Jr.'s MAHA Cooking Show Is Government Propaganda. I Kind of Love It? appeared first on Reason Magazine.