The 2025 Joe Wicks documentary on "killer protein bars" highlights how even well-intentioned attempts to raise awareness about food can sometimes oversimplify complex public health issues. The show's premise - to develop and market a supposedly "dangerous," additive-laden "ultra-processed" food to prompt government action - aims to spark debate about the modern food system.
Author
- Beverley O'Hara
Lecturer in Nutrition, Leeds Beckett University
But framing foods as inherently "dangerous" risks distorting the science and adding to public confusion about nutrition.
Stoking fear around ultra-processed foods (UPFs) often provokes psychological resistance, leading people to ignore health messages altogether or, paradoxically, to double down on the behaviour being criticised. The "processed equals bad" narrative can also fuel guilt, anxiety and disordered eating and stigmatises foods that are widely eaten, particularly by people on lower incomes.
The misinformation in the show adds to what the World Health Organization calls an "infodemic" - the rapid spread of false or misleading health information. Nutrition has become one of the most misinformation-prone topics on social media, where personal opinion is often presented as scientific fact. A 2023 review found widespread inaccuracies in online dietary advice, adding to public confusion and distrust of science.
The evidence linking UPFs to poor health is far from conclusive. Systematic reviews show that many studies reporting associations between UPFs and disease rely on observational data rated as low or very low quality. This means it cannot prove that UPFs cause disease. The latest review of research found that the UPF category adds little scientific value when assessing links between diet and disease.
Yet even among scientists, there is no clear agreement on how to classify them. Research found that both consumers and nutrition experts struggled to consistently identify which foods met the criteria for being "ultra-processed". Despite this uncertainty, around 65% of Europeans believe that UPFs are bad for their health.
Part of the problem lies in how the term is used. "Ultra-processed food" has become a catch-all phrase, often used to promote ideological views about modern food systems instead of being applied as a precise scientific category. The NOVA classification , which first introduced the concept, was intended as a research framework, not a moral ranking of foods. But, over time, it has been reinterpreted as a shorthand for "good" versus "bad" eating.
We have long understood that certain foods high in salt, sugar and saturated fat - traditionally called " junk food " - are not good for health. Rebranding these as UPFs adds little to that knowledge and risks distracting attention from the real structural issues that determine what people eat. These include the affordability of healthy foods, aggressive marketing of unhealthy ones and inequalities in time, income and access to cooking facilities.
Even governments can be influenced by simplistic narratives that attribute dietary problems to food processing itself rather than to social and economic policy. For example, critics argue that political discussions about banning UPFs can distract from more meaningful reforms that would make healthy foods affordable and accessible.
Why the UPF debate misses the point
Nutrition science is complex and evolves gradually. The anti-UPF narrative is appealing because it offers certainty in a world where people crave clear answers. But this makes the public especially vulnerable to misinformation. Turning preliminary findings into sensational headlines has always been profitable for the wellness industry. It sells books, builds brands and boosts online followings.
More concerning is how easily this kind of messaging drifts into conspiracy thinking, where "Big Food" and "Big Science" are portrayed as villains. Emotionally charged language, such as calling sugar "poison", encourages fear and mistrust of science. The food industry becomes a caricature of evil, accused of deliberately creating "addictive" and "dangerous" foods to harm consumers.
This narrative is not only misleading but also harmful. It undermines legitimate food science and public health research that could help develop sustainable, nutritious options for the future. The same sector that produces unhealthy convenience foods also employs scientists and innovators working on healthier, more sustainable products.
The future of healthy eating will depend on technologies such as plant-based proteins, fermentation and novel food production methods. Creating fear around food processing discourages this progress and makes it harder to tackle global nutrition and climate challenges.
Time to move beyond the buzzword
Food choices are shaped not just by personal preference but by the systems people live in. Those with higher incomes and more flexibility can often resist systemic pressures. Most people cannot. For many households, processed foods provide convenience, affordability and stability. Shaming people for eating the foods they can afford or grew up with ignores the realities of everyday life.
A single parent working two jobs does not need to be told that their child's breakfast cereal is "ultra-processed." They need access to affordable, nutritious foods that fit their circumstances.
Public health communication requires expertise. A medical degree does not make someone a nutrition specialist, just as a dietitian would not claim to be a heart surgeon. Experts who speak publicly about nutrition should have appropriate qualifications and professional accreditation in public health nutrition.
People deserve advice that empowers them rather than confuses them. They need accurate, balanced information delivered by qualified professionals who understand the complexity of nutrition science. The way we talk about food matters. It shapes public opinion, health policy and the future of our food systems.
It may be time to move beyond the term "ultra-processed food." What began as an attempt to describe modern diets has become a source of confusion, moral judgement and misplaced fear. The label no longer helps people make better choices. Instead, it risks turning important conversations about food, health and inequality into culture wars.
If we want to build a healthier and fairer food system, we must focus less on catchy labels and more on evidence, equity and education.
Beverley O'Hara does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.
