Nutrition Intelligence - The Obesogenic World
With a relationship with food defined, let’s see how the modern world is dragging us into permanent holiday mode. For over 300,000 years, the human brain has developed a very simple rule regarding food: find carbohydrates, find fat, and find protein, then eat as much as you can. Our physiology has also evolved into an extremely efficient machine for using or storing every molecule of carbohydrates, fat, and protein. For example, a healthy human body will have exactly zero sugar (representing carbs), fat, and protein in urine. If there are even tiny amounts of sugar or protein in someone’s urine, it indicates that this person has a non-trivial medical condition (diabetic if urine has sugar, or kidney malfunction if urine has protein, and serious digestive problems if fat appears in urine). That the healthy body prevents each drop of carbs, fat, or protein means that, after millions of years of evolution, our body has become so accustomed to an environment where nutrition is scarce that it must treasure them carefully.
However, the scarcity of food suddenly disappeared in the last few hundred years. Although it took centuries for the industrial revolution to develop enough to make mass food production a reality, it is less than a blink of an eye from an evolutionary perspective. Human body physiology today remains nearly identical to what it was 10,000 years ago in the Neolithic era, when diets were based on hunting and gathering. That same physiology now faces an entirely different type of food supply. Our bodies are not prepared for the fact that a bag of cookies, which contains more carbs and fat than a Stone Age person could gather in a day, can be bought for the cost of half an hour’s labour. Put simply, if we work a full day—compared to a Stone Age person hunting and gathering for a full day—we can obtain 10 to 100 times more calories. [1]. If using an illustration, humans are like a cactus in the desert that suddenly moves to the rainforest. The cactus’s physiology, built to endure extremely dry conditions, struggles with the rainforest’s abundant rainfall. The oversupply of food is just the start of the problem. From food production to processing, then to consumption, we live in an environment that constantly conditions us to eat more. The poor cacti are not only being flooded with water all the time, but are also conditioned to want more. Let’s take a closer look at how this wanting more happens.
When growing food, we are constantly seeking ways to produce more calories and satiety. For example, cultivated apples are now about 3.6 × as heavy and less acidic (tasting sweeter) than their wild ancestors, reflecting centuries of human selection for palatability and consumer preference in domesticated apples [2]. We select the sweetest bananas, watermelons, strawberries, and grapes, using their seeds to grow the next batch. The sweetness of fruits today would make them the equivalent of dessert if served on a dining table a few centuries ago. For corn, those with less fibre and more starch are chosen to produce the maximum amount of sugar-like product. Bananas are now seedless, soft, and very sweet, making them easy to eat and quickly digestible. For chickens, we feed them as much corn as they can physically absorb, using synthetic lights to accelerate their circadian rhythm and help them grow faster. All these practices are calorie engineering at the agricultural level. As a result, our food has high calorie density, long shelf life, and portability, but low nutritional density.
When processing food, we continue the journey to make it addictive, often at the expense of nutrition. Modern food isn’t just processed; it’s carefully calibrated. Food scientists systematically adjust the levels of sugar, fat, and salt to hit the “bliss point”—the perfect balance of sweetness, richness, and saltiness that maximises enjoyment without causing sensory fatigue. At this point, the brain’s reward system is highly activated, but the body’s satiety signals lag behind. This results in food that doesn’t satisfy for long — it encourages another bite. Besides balancing sugar, fat, and salt, many ultra-processed foods are crafted to dissolve quickly in the mouth, require little chewing, and vanish fast — sometimes called “vanishing caloric density.” When food dissolves before the brain can perceive fullness, the mouth and stomach send weak “stop eating” signals. Consequently, large amounts of calories can be consumed with little awareness of how much has been eaten, making eating nearly effortless. Even for simple foods, we engineer them for tastiness rather than nutrition. For example, many flour-based products, such as pasta and bread, undergo processes that remove fibre during production. We know fibre is beneficial because it slows sugar digestion and provides nutrition for gut microbiomes, but we still remove fibre from bread and pasta to enhance taste (bread becomes softer, pasta smoother). As a result, our bodies may not feel the need. Another example of the engineering behind addictive food is that adding sugar has become standard practice for many snacks. ‘ Enough’ signal. Another example of engineering food’s addictiveness is adding sugar, a practice that has become standard for many snacks. If you read food labels, you’ll find ingredients like “high-fructose corn syrup, glucose, dextrose, maltodextrin, fructose, sucrose, invert sugar, rice syrup, barley malt, cane sugar, evaporated cane juice, agave nectar, honey, maple syrup, fruit juice concentrate, apple juice concentrate, grape juice concentrate, brown rice syrup, malt syrup, golden syrup, treacle, molasses, sorghum syrup, date syrup, palm sugar, coconut sugar, beet sugar, corn sweetener, caramel, malt extract,”… and they are all essentially sugar. When we eat snacks with these ingredients, not only are our digestive systems activated, but our brain’s reward system is as well. Food becomes a source of reward rather than just fuel and nutrition, and we slip into a “holiday mode” in our relationship with food — maximising cravings.
When consuming food, the journey of conditioning ourselves to eat more continues. The activity we do while eating often increases our food intake without us realising. When we eat while watching TV, scrolling through phones, or playing games, we block out the body signals that tell us we’re full. Compared to the strong stimuli from games, TV, and phones, the sensations of fullness, taste, and satisfaction from eating become muffled. We often keep eating until we consume much more than we need. Over time, our brain might even learn that eating is not a main activity but a side one that doesn’t require much attention. This habit of side activity can make overeating worse. Let’s ask ourselves, when was the last time we ate alone without watching a screen? The food and entertainment industries also try to link eating with specific activities to boost sales. For example, popcorn and movies have become strongly linked as a social norm. For many people, watching a movie without popcorn seems strange. It’s worth asking why we feel the need to eat a large bag of high-sugar, high-salt, low-nutrition food while watching movies. Many TV ads aim to reinforce the link between their products and social activities: “Game on, Grill on, Grab a LaLa beer,” “Long drive? Have a bag of Darido with you,” Level up your snack game with Pitto,” “Fuel your win with Mada.” All these slogans are fake, but they may sound familiar because they are so common.
When we step back and look at the whole picture, a pattern becomes impossible to ignore. From the way food is grown to the way it is processed, marketed, and consumed, every layer of the system is quietly pushing in the same direction: more calories, more reward, less friction, less stopping. We do not have to decide to overeat. We simply have to live a normal day. We walk past food, see food, are reminded of food, are offered food, eat while doing something else, and the food itself is designed to disappear quickly while stimulating the brain strongly and the stomach weakly. By the time our bodies have a chance to ask whether they have had enough, the decision has already been made.
In such an environment, self-control becomes a heroic act rather than a matter of course. The default path of least resistance is no longer balanced; it is in excess. The body that once survived by never wasting calories is now surrounded by calories that require no hunting, no waiting, no effort, and almost no attention. The cactus is no longer just in the rainforest—it is being watered, misted, and sprayed all day long, while being encouraged to enjoy it.
Such an environment has a name in public health and nutrition science. It is called an obesogenic environment—a world in which the default outcome, without constant and conscious resistance, is gradual weight gain and metabolic dysfunction. We did not become weaker. We simply moved from a world that was naturally leptogenic into one that is systematically obesogenic.
Let’s see what we can do.
[1] erman Pontzer, David A. Raichlen & Brian M. Wood, “Hunter-Gatherer Energetics and Human Obesity,” PLoS ONE 7(7): e40503 (2012) — This study used doubly-labeled water to measure daily energy expenditure in traditional Hadza hunter-gatherers and found that total energy expenditure in foraging populations remains closely tied to daily effort and food acquisition patterns shaped by a pre-industrial subsistence lifestyle, highlighting how modern abundance of energy-dense foods far exceeds the calories historically obtained through hunting and gathering.
[2] Dal researchers trace evolution of apples and how they've changed over time — Researchers tracking the evolution of apples found that modern cultivated varieties are about 3.6 times heavier and significantly less acidic (associated with sweeter taste) than their wild counterparts, reflecting human selection for traits linked to palatability and consumer appeal.
However, the scarcity of food suddenly disappeared in the last few hundred years. Although it took centuries for the industrial revolution to develop enough to make mass food production a reality, it is less than a blink of an eye from an evolutionary perspective. Human body physiology today remains nearly identical to what it was 10,000 years ago in the Neolithic era, when diets were based on hunting and gathering. That same physiology now faces an entirely different type of food supply. Our bodies are not prepared for the fact that a bag of cookies, which contains more carbs and fat than a Stone Age person could gather in a day, can be bought for the cost of half an hour’s labour. Put simply, if we work a full day—compared to a Stone Age person hunting and gathering for a full day—we can obtain 10 to 100 times more calories. [1]. If using an illustration, humans are like a cactus in the desert that suddenly moves to the rainforest. The cactus’s physiology, built to endure extremely dry conditions, struggles with the rainforest’s abundant rainfall. The oversupply of food is just the start of the problem. From food production to processing, then to consumption, we live in an environment that constantly conditions us to eat more. The poor cacti are not only being flooded with water all the time, but are also conditioned to want more. Let’s take a closer look at how this wanting more happens.
When growing food, we are constantly seeking ways to produce more calories and satiety. For example, cultivated apples are now about 3.6 × as heavy and less acidic (tasting sweeter) than their wild ancestors, reflecting centuries of human selection for palatability and consumer preference in domesticated apples [2]. We select the sweetest bananas, watermelons, strawberries, and grapes, using their seeds to grow the next batch. The sweetness of fruits today would make them the equivalent of dessert if served on a dining table a few centuries ago. For corn, those with less fibre and more starch are chosen to produce the maximum amount of sugar-like product. Bananas are now seedless, soft, and very sweet, making them easy to eat and quickly digestible. For chickens, we feed them as much corn as they can physically absorb, using synthetic lights to accelerate their circadian rhythm and help them grow faster. All these practices are calorie engineering at the agricultural level. As a result, our food has high calorie density, long shelf life, and portability, but low nutritional density.
When processing food, we continue the journey to make it addictive, often at the expense of nutrition. Modern food isn’t just processed; it’s carefully calibrated. Food scientists systematically adjust the levels of sugar, fat, and salt to hit the “bliss point”—the perfect balance of sweetness, richness, and saltiness that maximises enjoyment without causing sensory fatigue. At this point, the brain’s reward system is highly activated, but the body’s satiety signals lag behind. This results in food that doesn’t satisfy for long — it encourages another bite. Besides balancing sugar, fat, and salt, many ultra-processed foods are crafted to dissolve quickly in the mouth, require little chewing, and vanish fast — sometimes called “vanishing caloric density.” When food dissolves before the brain can perceive fullness, the mouth and stomach send weak “stop eating” signals. Consequently, large amounts of calories can be consumed with little awareness of how much has been eaten, making eating nearly effortless. Even for simple foods, we engineer them for tastiness rather than nutrition. For example, many flour-based products, such as pasta and bread, undergo processes that remove fibre during production. We know fibre is beneficial because it slows sugar digestion and provides nutrition for gut microbiomes, but we still remove fibre from bread and pasta to enhance taste (bread becomes softer, pasta smoother). As a result, our bodies may not feel the need. Another example of the engineering behind addictive food is that adding sugar has become standard practice for many snacks. ‘ Enough’ signal. Another example of engineering food’s addictiveness is adding sugar, a practice that has become standard for many snacks. If you read food labels, you’ll find ingredients like “high-fructose corn syrup, glucose, dextrose, maltodextrin, fructose, sucrose, invert sugar, rice syrup, barley malt, cane sugar, evaporated cane juice, agave nectar, honey, maple syrup, fruit juice concentrate, apple juice concentrate, grape juice concentrate, brown rice syrup, malt syrup, golden syrup, treacle, molasses, sorghum syrup, date syrup, palm sugar, coconut sugar, beet sugar, corn sweetener, caramel, malt extract,”… and they are all essentially sugar. When we eat snacks with these ingredients, not only are our digestive systems activated, but our brain’s reward system is as well. Food becomes a source of reward rather than just fuel and nutrition, and we slip into a “holiday mode” in our relationship with food — maximising cravings.
When consuming food, the journey of conditioning ourselves to eat more continues. The activity we do while eating often increases our food intake without us realising. When we eat while watching TV, scrolling through phones, or playing games, we block out the body signals that tell us we’re full. Compared to the strong stimuli from games, TV, and phones, the sensations of fullness, taste, and satisfaction from eating become muffled. We often keep eating until we consume much more than we need. Over time, our brain might even learn that eating is not a main activity but a side one that doesn’t require much attention. This habit of side activity can make overeating worse. Let’s ask ourselves, when was the last time we ate alone without watching a screen? The food and entertainment industries also try to link eating with specific activities to boost sales. For example, popcorn and movies have become strongly linked as a social norm. For many people, watching a movie without popcorn seems strange. It’s worth asking why we feel the need to eat a large bag of high-sugar, high-salt, low-nutrition food while watching movies. Many TV ads aim to reinforce the link between their products and social activities: “Game on, Grill on, Grab a LaLa beer,” “Long drive? Have a bag of Darido with you,” Level up your snack game with Pitto,” “Fuel your win with Mada.” All these slogans are fake, but they may sound familiar because they are so common.
When we step back and look at the whole picture, a pattern becomes impossible to ignore. From the way food is grown to the way it is processed, marketed, and consumed, every layer of the system is quietly pushing in the same direction: more calories, more reward, less friction, less stopping. We do not have to decide to overeat. We simply have to live a normal day. We walk past food, see food, are reminded of food, are offered food, eat while doing something else, and the food itself is designed to disappear quickly while stimulating the brain strongly and the stomach weakly. By the time our bodies have a chance to ask whether they have had enough, the decision has already been made.
In such an environment, self-control becomes a heroic act rather than a matter of course. The default path of least resistance is no longer balanced; it is in excess. The body that once survived by never wasting calories is now surrounded by calories that require no hunting, no waiting, no effort, and almost no attention. The cactus is no longer just in the rainforest—it is being watered, misted, and sprayed all day long, while being encouraged to enjoy it.
Such an environment has a name in public health and nutrition science. It is called an obesogenic environment—a world in which the default outcome, without constant and conscious resistance, is gradual weight gain and metabolic dysfunction. We did not become weaker. We simply moved from a world that was naturally leptogenic into one that is systematically obesogenic.
Let’s see what we can do.
[1] erman Pontzer, David A. Raichlen & Brian M. Wood, “Hunter-Gatherer Energetics and Human Obesity,” PLoS ONE 7(7): e40503 (2012) — This study used doubly-labeled water to measure daily energy expenditure in traditional Hadza hunter-gatherers and found that total energy expenditure in foraging populations remains closely tied to daily effort and food acquisition patterns shaped by a pre-industrial subsistence lifestyle, highlighting how modern abundance of energy-dense foods far exceeds the calories historically obtained through hunting and gathering.
[2] Dal researchers trace evolution of apples and how they've changed over time — Researchers tracking the evolution of apples found that modern cultivated varieties are about 3.6 times heavier and significantly less acidic (associated with sweeter taste) than their wild counterparts, reflecting human selection for traits linked to palatability and consumer appeal.
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