Last summer I went on the diet to end all diets. I had expected the hardest part of the diet to be not eating bread/sugar/cheese, but two weeks in, I realized the hardest part by far was simply finding food to buy.
For instance, no grocery within walking distance offered sugar-free bacon. There was only one brand of tortilla chips available within the restrictions above. And if you didn’t look carefully, you’d completely miss the three jars of sugar-free peanut butter sitting forlornly on the shelf among their partially-hydrogenated friends.
After a few weeks of this, I started to get more than a little irritated. And upon reflection, I realized my frustration with peanut butter was symptomatic of a larger problem, which I call the Sugar-Free Peanut Butter Effect: we betray ourselves by what we call exceptional. And betray ourselves we do.
Shouldn’t all peanut butter be sugar free? It’s PEANUT. BUTTER. Two words, one ingredient. It’s not as if the sugar-free stuff tastes appreciably worse (you just have to refrigerate it so it stays viscous). All peanut butter should be sugar free, and therefore the need for the extra adjective shouldn’t exist. (If anything, we should give all the processed PB adjectives like “Peanut Butter with a lot of extra chemicals to guarantee a truly post-apocalyptic shelf life.”) But it is “sugar-free” that is our adjective of choice, which implies that sugar-free PB is the exception, rather than the rule. Hence, the Sugar-Free PB Effect.
Come to think of it, this applies to a wide variety of foods. Why does one package of eggs at the grocery say “cruelty-free” — does that mean the other 99 packages on the shelf de-beaked their chickens and kept them in tiny cages? Why is Trader Joe’s the only grocery to sell sugar-free bacon (what was wrong with bacon that you needed to add sugar?)? What are most cows eating, if they’re not grass-fed? What the heck is in a hot dog if it’s not “100% Beef”?
And why does the Chinese restaurant in my hometown call itself “Yummy China” (apart from the language barrier) — shouldn’t all Chinese food be yummy? Far from reassuring me, the sight of “Yummy China”‘s marquee makes me think they’re compensating for something.
And believe it or not, I see the same Sugar-Free Peanut Butter Effect at play in the world outside of food. For many decades, the “People’s Republic” of China was anything but, and don’t get me started on the United Soviet Socialist “Republics”. (These are a little different, in that their exceptional adjectives were merely propaganda, but in a way that’s even worse!)
Or, spend two seconds on the internet and you’ll find forums advertising how nice they are (in an ideal world, shouldn’t all forums be nice?). Turn on the TV, and you’ll be lucky to find a story of a politician or celebrity who is winning any medals for honesty. Okay, maybe you’ll find Fred Rogers, who was admittedly pretty great — but as great as Fred Rogers was, why was he sweeping the medals of lifetime achievement? Shouldn’t all children’s TV be just as uplifting, kind, educational, soul-filling, and good as Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood? Shouldn’t he have at least a little competition for Most Authentic Celebrity of All Time?
All together, it’s pretty sad when we have to advertise the fact that our food is healthy, our children’s TV personalities are kind, and our leaders are honest.
It’s clear that sugar-free PB, Mr. Rogers, and Yummy China are exceptions, not the rule, and that’s heartbreaking. It’s even worse to realize there are people and companies profiting hand-over-fist from selling us Frankensteined PB as if it were normal, even as they gain public image points from reforming their practices. (Oreos should never have been called “food” in the first place; don’t applaud them for making gluten-free and vegan packets of creme-flavored filling and Red Lake 5! “Fake Stuff, Now Even Faker!”)
It might seem silly when I’m talking about cookies and Chinese takeout, but the Sugar-Free PB Effect has deadly consequences, too: Why was Flint, MI drinking poisoned water, when they paid their utility bills? Why was bottled water then sold to Flint’s residents as “safe”? Did water-bottling companies actually increase their profits as a result of the fears stirred up by the debacle in Flint? I never want to need the adjective “safe” in reference to water, but it was tragically necessary in Michigan.
We betray ourselves by our exceptions. And America’s exceptions are diverse workplaces, Christ-like churches, kind celebrities, honest politicians, healthy food, and safe water.
But I’m far from the first to point out the Sugar-Free Peanut Butter Effect (although I will submit that I gave it the catchiest name). Wendell Berry has been calling out the hypocrisy of consumer-oriented capitalism for decades, in essays such as “Money Versus Goods” or “Faustian Economics” or “Two Economies”. But it’s much older than Berry, too, and it is with those old words I will close:
When people lost sight of the way to live / Came codes of love and honesty…
When differences weakened family ties / Came benevolent fathers and dutiful sons;
And when lands were disrupted and misgoverned / Came ministers commended as loyal.
Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching
To Lao Tzu’s words I humbly add the following: “When food became processed into slow poison / Came shelves of sugar-free peanut butter.”