By Chesney Bradshaw
There was a time—not so long ago in the grand sweep of history—when food was simply food. You ate what you could find, grow, trade, or hunt. Meat, fish, vegetables, nuts, grains, fruit, fowl—whatever was available in your region and season. Nobody gave you a lecture if you had a chop or tucked into a hard-boiled egg.
Fast forward to now, and food has become a political minefield.
We live in an era where dietary choices are not just about taste or health—they’re statements. Identity markers. Flags planted on moral high ground. Gluten-free, dairy-free, egg-free, cruelty-free, lab-grown, locally-sourced, carbon-neutral. These labels once helped consumers navigate allergies or personal values, but now? They often serve as shorthand for ideology, social status, or even cultural superiority.
I want to be clear: religious dietary laws—such as those in Judaism and Islam—deserve the highest respect. These rules come from deeply rooted traditions and are lived with grace and dignity by millions. Likewise, Taoist practices of avoiding all living creatures as food come from profound spiritual commitment. No one can—or should—argue with that.
But what does start to grate is when food choices become a sort of moral performance. It’s not enough that you eat tofu. You must tell others you eat tofu. Loudly. Often. With just the right amount of disdain for those who dare enjoy a roast chicken or—heaven forbid—a pork chop.
Some of the loudest voices in this space no longer speak about food, really. They speak about power. About purity. About aligning yourself with “the right side of history.” If you eat meat, some would have you feel as if you’ve personally lit the match under the planet. If you opt for a traditional diet, you risk being labelled backward or unethical.
Meanwhile, the food industry has cottoned on. There’s serious money in this politicisation. Supermarkets now devote entire aisles to frozen vegetarian meals, gluten-free snacks, meat substitutes that promise the texture of beef without the guilt. What was once niche is now mainstream—and profitable. Buzzwords bring branding power, and the market has responded with gusto.
But let’s not forget: the politics of food go well beyond the individual. Food intersects with identity (who we are), culture (where we come from), religion (what we believe), economics (who profits), and governance (what we regulate).
• In some parts of the world, food scarcity still defines politics. Access to affordable staples is a human rights issue.
• In others, food has become a battlefield in the so-called “culture wars”—especially in the U.S., where eating a steak is sometimes held up as a patriotic duty, while ordering a soy burger can be seen as leftist rebellion.
• Across the globe, policy decisions about agriculture, trade, and food safety are influenced by powerful lobbies and ideological agendas.
And let’s not kid ourselves—this politicisation isn’t going anywhere. Climate change, animal welfare, and rising health consciousness are shifting the food landscape. But amid the debates and demands, I hope we can hold onto a little humility.
Let’s allow room for personal choice without scorn. Let’s eat what nourishes us—body and soul—without shaming others for doing differently. Food should connect us, not divide us.
After all, when we sit at a table together, we’re not just eating—we’re sharing something older than politics, older than buzzwords, older than any trend: the act of being human.
Would you like to receive more thought-provoking posts like this? Subscribe to my newsletter on IdeaAccelerator.co.za.
