I recently wrote about the carnivore diet: what it is, the claimed health benefits, and what the short- and long-term evidence suggests about its healthfulness. I suggest reading that article for context before continuing here.
To put it mildly, the evidence favoring a carnivore diet is not convincing. Anyone hoping for proof that this is a healthy diet will have to settle for anecdotes and hearsay, speculation about some of our ancestors’ lifestyles, and attempts to dismantle most of what nutrition scientists have been telling us for the past several decades. In the previous article, I also briefly summarized some of the research supporting a plant-inclusive diet, about which volumes could be (and have been) written.
This interpretation is, admittedly, somewhat influenced by my positive experiences with the whole food, plant-based diet. However, I think it would be a big mistake to frame the carnivore diet as especially opposed to plant-based diets. Such positioning ignores the fact that the carnivore diet is far more restrictive and far less researched than plant-based diets; it ignores that the carnivore diet is opposite not only to veganism but also to every more moderate dietary approach on the planet; in short, it ignores that the carnivore diet is an extreme fringe experiment.
Practically every major health organization you could think of—from the American Heart Association to the World Health Organization, from the Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics to the American Institute for Cancer Research, and much more—and every moderate person in between, either explicitly warns against the carnivore diet, citing concerns about the diet’s nutritional inadequacies, extreme restrictiveness, and the lack of research, or recommends a balanced diet incompatible with the carnivore diet.
It’s commonly said, and attributed to Dr. John McDougall, that people love to hear good news about their bad habits. While I think this is generally true and may partly play into the carnivore diet’s trendiness, I’m convinced something more is going on with this phenomenon. After all, maintaining an unhealthy standard American diet is also pleasurable and considerably easier.
The diet’s popularity more likely owes somewhat to a combination of chronic disease epidemics and the desperation for short-term results. Many are driven by promises of short-term weight loss; the long-term consequences of the carnivore diet may be far from their minds. A survey cited in the previous article mentioned above shows not only that people are motivated by weight loss but also that weight loss is possible (whether the weight loss is sustainable for most people and at what cost are different issues).[7]
But I also believe something deeper and more interesting is happening here: more than maybe any other diet, the carnivore diet thrives on the disintegration of public trust in the medical system.
If you spend a couple hours surveying comments and reviews for related articles, books, and blogs, one of the most persistent patterns you will notice is the profound distrust people feel toward the institutions that are supposed to guide us toward healthier outcomes. “Whatever the government recommends,” writes one reviewer of The Carnivore Diet, “do the opposite and you can’t go far wrong!”[8] “The ‘experts’ told us the food pyramid was the best method for a balanced diet,” laments another on Reddit.[9] This sentiment appears to be extremely common not only in spaces dedicated to the carnivore diet. I recently read a Wall Street Journal article about cheese, and the comments were full of similar remarks.[10] It’s also a recurring theme with other fad diets: Dr. Gundry’s lectin-free diet, blood-type diets, etc. But as the most extreme of these examples, the carnivore diet best exemplifies the pattern.
On the one hand, I have sympathy for those who distrust the medical establishment. By almost any measure, our collective health is not doing well. Despite our spending exorbitant sums of money, epidemics of chronic disease and nutrition confusion are swallowing the world. In many cases, our ability to treat and prevent diseases has barely improved, if at all, and this stagnation has been going on for decades. To make matters worse, doctors are not sufficiently trained in nutrition, and corporations exert untold influence on the very institutions entrusted with addressing these challenges.
Unsurprisingly, as of 2023, only one in three Americans reported having a great deal or quite a lot of confidence in the medical system.[11] Although that is significantly higher than the public’s confidence in other institutions, like Congress or the news media, it’s still abysmal. Likewise, public trust in scientists has declined.[12]
The knee-jerk reaction we might expect in response to this systemic failure is exactly what we do see—throngs of people assuming we should do the opposite of whatever the experts tell us. If experts tell us vegetables are healthy, vegetables must be toxic; if experts tell us that whole grains are not the same thing as Twinkies, they must be trying to fatten us up; if experts tell us that animal-based diets are associated with increased incidence of cancer, they must be part of a global conspiracy. And if experts “have beef” with the carnivore diet, it must be worth seriously considering.[13]
To what extent does a failing system justify unfounded paranoia? Surely, we can do better than raging against MyPlate and championing a diet for which there is no scientific basis. Why not instead direct our energy toward making constructive demands—why not advocate for the sort of changes capable of gradually restoring trust and empowering individuals to make better decisions for their health?
The final chapter of The Future of Nutrition (2020) addresses this need:[14]
“As useful as it is to deconstruct and denounce the current system, we must also think constructively. The challenges we face are complex, too, and so require more than one simple solution. This is why wholism, as an organizing principle to inform our scientific pursuits, is a good first step toward addressing these challenges: it is not merely a rejection of the current status quo, but also an acceptance of something larger and more essential; it does not only question our flawed reductionist practices but offers an engaging, active alternative. By offering alternatives, we don’t simply tear systems down, but instead improve them. And shouldn’t this be our goal?”
In other words, it is not enough to sprint toward whatever experts and institutions warn us against. We should think more critically about the alternatives we propose, and not throw away the progress that has been achieved. Here are a few constructive goals, again from The Future of Nutrition, to get us started:
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