Good Calories, Bad Calories by Gary Taubes

I’m a fan of the EconTalk podcast and have been listening religiously for the better part of a year. The host, Russ Roberts, brings a variety of guests onto the show and ties diverse topics back to the fundamentals of economics. One of my favorite guests has been Gary Taubes, whom Russ brought on for the first time in November of last year to discuss fat, sugar and scientific discovery. The contrarian nature of his opinions interested me immediately, but it wasn’t until Taubes was on Econ Talk a second time that I felt compelled to pick up a copy of his book Good Calories, Bad Calories.

Published in 2007, Good Calories, Bad Calories is an extremely multifaceted book. Not only is it a comprehensive history of epidemiological studies on nutrition and obesity treatments, it’s also a exposé on junk science and the dangers of politicizing public health. There’s a lot more going on in this book than I’ll be able to give justice to here, but Taubes’ main thesis is that obesity, along with a whole host of other diseases, is caused by carbohydrate consumption; and, by extension, that low-carb diets are the only healthy way to achieve sustained weight loss.

That’s not a difficult concept to grasp. Most people already understand that to some extent. The problem is that people also have the contradictory belief that dietary fats are bad in that they too cause obesity as well as heart disease. I didn’t fully grasp how diametrically opposed these two ideas are until reading this book.

Taubes devotes the first portion of the book to the fat-cholesterol hypothesis — that diets high in fat and cholesterol cause heart disease. He attacks this myth systematically, calling it into question with the very data used to corroborate it. Taubes argues that researchers who believed this hypothesis never truly attempted to disprove it as the scientific method calls for. Rather, they promoted it through systemic group think, confirmation bias, and by politicizing the issue. They claimed, and still do, that “the verdict is in” (whenever I hear that phrase the “junk-science alarm” in my head implodes).

The dangers of this hypothesis, other than the fact that it’s simply not true, are that if you cut fats out of your diet you are forced to replace them with carbohydrates. You can’t have a low-fat diet that’s also low in carbohydrates. It just doesn’t work that way. It’s about the same time this hypothesis was taught to the American public that obesity rates started to rise along with diabetes and heart disease. It’s a vicious cycle, where people know sugar and flower are bad for them but health officials have scared them into believing fats are even worse. The next logical step is for public health officials (generally not actual scientists) to recommend low-calorie diets that are ineffective and unsustainable, leaving the public confused and demoralized when it comes to maintaining healthy weight.

From there he delves into the carbohydrate hypothesis, which has been largely overlooked by western health officials since WWII. The essence of this theory is very easy to grasp; anything that spikes insulin levels causes weight gain. This is because insulin is the hormone the body uses to trigger fat storage. As the body is bombarded with carbohydrates, insulin spiking foods, it begins to become resistant to the hormone. The body then reacts by producing more insulin which, in turn, causes increased resistance. This cycle eventually leads to obesity, diabetes, and a host other health issues. Weight gain is an effect, not the cause of these health problems. For this reason, low-carb diets, which are actually what humans have evolved to eat, are the only way to stave off these so called “western diseases.”

I’ve drastically oversimplified, but Taubes wades deep into the science and gives both historical and political context, as well as some great anecdotes — my favorite example was the study that proved the dangers of all-meat diets by force-feeding rabbits (herbivores) meat. Along the way he debunks a number of myths that have baffled me for years:

  • Fat stores = Caloric Intake – Energy Expenditure
    • Sure, the First Law of Thermodynamics might apply to simple machines, but humans are anything but. Once hormones (estrogen, testosterone, growth hormone, insulting, etc) enter the equation, overall calorie intake has little importance compared to the type of calorie it is.
  • Humans need to consume a wide variety of foods in order to get the needed vitamins and nutrients.
    • I remember asking my high-school Human Physiology teacher something along the lines of, “Why are humans the only mammals that need such a wide variety of foods?” He didn’t have a good answer and neither does science; because we don’t. Hopefully we’ve all realized how asinine the Food Pyramid is by now, but if not, it’s time to move on.
  • Eating just a few less, or burning a few more calories a day will lead to long-term weight loss.
    • It’d be nice if cutting out the cream-cheese on your breakfast bagel or always taking the stairs would help you shave off a few pounds over a year, but it won’t. As mentioned above, the human body is a wonderfully complex machine. It’s capable of adjusting to fluctuations in its environment. Add a few hundred extra calories and the body will react systematically to simply burn them off without notice. Subtract a few, and the body will simple adjust the amount of energy available for physical activity. This equilibrium won’t be affected by exercise either. In Taubes’ own words, “Expending more energy than we consume does not lead to long-term weight loss; it leads to hunger.”

One of the aspects I enjoyed most about Good Calories, Bad Calories is that Taubes isn’t trying to convert the reader to his own specially formulated weight loss regimen with included point systems and snack bars. While he definitely has a strong opinion to get across, his aim is to convince the reader that current views on obesity, weight loss, and diabetes are not based on proper scientific research.

The scientific obligation… is to establish the cause of obesity, diabetes, and the chronic diseases of civilization beyond reasonable doubt. By doing so, we can take the necessary steps to prevent these disorders, rather than trying to cure them or ameliorate them after the fact. If there are competing hypotheses, it does us little good to test one alone. It does little good to continue basing public-health recommendations and dietary advice on association studies… that are incapable of reliably establishing cause and effect. What’s needed now are randomized trials that test the carbohydrate hypothesis as well as the conventional wisdom. Such trials would be expensive. Like the Diabetes Prevention Program and Look AHEAD, they’ll cost tens or hundreds of millions of dollars. And even if such trials are funded, it might be another decade or two before we have reliable answers. But it’s hard to imagine that this controversy will go away if we don’t do them, that we won’t be arguing about the detrimental role of fats and carbohydrates in the diet twenty years from now. The public will certainly not be served by attempts of interest groups and industry to make this controversy go away. If the tide of obesity and diabetes continues to rise around the world, it’s hard to imagine that the cost of such trials, even a dozen or a hundred of them, won’t ultimately be trivial compared with the societal cost.

While I feel that anybody would benefit from reading Good Calories, Bad Calories, it may be a daunting task for some. It’s an in-depth look at the science and history of public health as it pertains to obesity and diabetes. This is not a “diet book.” You won’t find a list of foods you should or shouldn’t eat within its pages (though you can easily reason that out afterwards). Nor will you find helpful weight loss tricks.

What you will find is that the evidence in favor of our society’s current view on diet and exercise is extremely lacking and that the evidence against it is quite strong. This book has convinced me to change my lifestyle. Although I don’t expect everyone to have the same reaction, Taubes gives ample validation to make anyone skeptical of public health guidelines. I strongly recommend Good Calories, Bad Calories, but even if you don’t pick up a copy I’d urge you to study these things out for yourself. Also, the next time you hear some advice from a public health institution, you’d be wise to take it with a grain of salt gram of fat.

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Warning! Never order a curry that’s not on the menu

While in my early twenties I spent a couple of years in England. I had a lot of fun and gained loads from the experience. One thing in particular I gained was a love for some fantastic food. Not British food, mind you. Traditional British food is unbelievably bland, especially to the American palette. I am referring to Indian cuisine.

It took but a week to become addicted to currys, kebabs, naan bread and the like. Being somewhat of a food fanatic I was in heavan. Each curry shop had slightly different variations on every dish, and with literelly hundreds of Indian restaurants in each city there was plenty of foodie fun to keep me occupied. Consequently I gained about 1 1/2 stone while overseas.

The Vindaloo curry is considered to be somewhat of a right of passage for foreigners. It was the hottest curry on most menus. Not to be taken lightly! I ate my first one without much trouble. It wasn’t that bad. Don’t get me wrong. It was hot, but being born in New Orleans I have had equally hot Cajun dishes.

The dreaded Phaal Curry

It wasn’t until close to the end of my time abroad that we learned of a curry, usually withheld from the menu, that was twice as hot as the dreaded Vindaloo. When we inquired as to the reason this dish, the Phaal Curry, wasn’t advertised on the menu the cook answered, “When white people order it, they don’t come back!”

That clinched it for me. I had to try this most potent of dishes. My flatmate, Andrew, hadn’t had his Vindaloo yet, so we took the challenge together. We got our curries and brought them to some friends’ flat who lived near by. We needed witnesses.

The Phaal curry was literally the hottest, most painful thing I have ever eaten. I’d like to think that I endured through half of it, but I really don’t recall. It was a fiery hell that consumed my body like acid from the stomach out; blurring my vision and causing fissures in my skull. It took several yogurt soaked pieces of naan to subdue the flames in my gut but the pain eventually subsided. At that point, both Andrew and I decided to end the night.

Early the next morning my eyes popped open with panic. Every alarm in my body was sounding. I bolted from my bed making a b-line for the loo only to find that the door was locked.

“Andrew, man!” I hurriedly pounded on the door. “I need to get in there!”

“I’m on the toilet. I’ll be out in a little bit.” I could tell from his tone that his curry didn’t set well either.

“Hurry up. I am dying out here!”

“I’m dying in here!”

Clenching every muscle in my body, I paced the living room on the balls of my feet while holding my breath. If I kept moving I could avert disaster. But how long was Andrew going to take? Not knowing increased the panic ten fold.

Gasping for air, I ran to the kitchen, grabbed the garbage bin and perched myself on top. I commenced to purged my body of the demonic poison; reliving the pain from the previous night. In-between my short Lamaze winces I repeated vows that I would never do this to my body again, much like a high schooler clutching the the toilet bowl after his first experience with alcohol.

Andrew didn’t exit the bathroom until I was  already returning from emptying the bin. He told me that he was done, but to his surprise I replied that I didn’t need it anymore. He laughed pretty hard when I told him what had happened, especially when I added that we were going to need some new kitchen towels.

Going to pass out? Better finish your fries first.

Who we truly are is often showcased by how we handle out of the ordinary situations. Occasionally life presents us with events that are so random that we simply react rather than taking time to think. Sometimes these situations are extreme even life threatening but sometimes they are just, funny.

The Red Cross visited my high school on a yearly basis. If I remember right, it was every spring and only Juniors and Seniors were allowed to participate in the blood drive. I joined in both years; partly for altruistic reasons and also because it was an excuse to get out of class. Students that wished to give were taken out of class alphabetically, so each year I  had given my donation and was rewarded with orange juice and cookies before first period was even over. However, my second year of participation yielded greater returns than a simple glucose boost.

It was the beginning of fourth hour, just after lunch, and class had already started when Matthew (names have been changed to protect the innocent) walked into the room carrying his lunch. Although our school had an open campus and students were allowed to leave for lunch, we were forbidden from having food in class. Most teachers enforced this rule strictly. As this was a Law class, I was shocked that the teacher didn’t put the kibosh on Matt’s extended lunch post-haste.

Apparently Matt had given blood earlier that day, and it had not gone well. What was normally a 15-20 minute process had taken him over an hour. The nurse had a hard time finding his vein. That, combined with his moderate fear of needles, ended with him nearly passing out and spending what would have been his lunch break breathing into a paper bag. The process must not have been completely finished because Matt wasn’t able to eat more than a few fries before he abruptly stood up and left the room. We could all tell that something wasn’t right because, not only was the teacher in the middle of her lecture, but Matt was the whitest shade of pale I have ever seen. Also, he wasn’t really walking. It looked like he was using all of his effort just to stay upright and leaning forward in hopes that his legs would get him to where he needed to go.

The teacher stopped mid-sentence and turned to me because I was seated the closest to her. “Philip, follow him and see if he is okay.” She poked her head out the door. “He went into the bathroom.”

By the time I got into the bathroom Matt was already down on all fours between the urinals and the stalls. Not really a sanitary place to be crawling around if you ask me. When I walked in he looked up. It seemed more like he was staring through me than at me, with his dilated pupils and and his waking-dead like stare.

“Help me!” he bellowed like a distraught farm animal. He was able to gurgle his plea for help a second time before his arms gave way and he toppled to his side. Momentum kicked in and rolled him to his back. Then he was still.

I jogged back into class and told our teacher that he had passed out. She had already sent another student for help and she ran out of the room to join the cluster of staff headed into the restroom. It was then that my instincts kicked in. Or was it my appetite? I didn’t have to think. I knew what needed to be done. I sat down at Matthew’s desk and finished his burger and fries.

So there you have it. This experience taught me just what I am made of. In the toughest of situations, when leaders panic and loose their cool, when men are dropping like flies to the bathroom floor, and class-room rules are hanging by a single thread, leaving anarchy and food out to waste, I am able to completely shut off my emotions and let my stomach do the thinking.

*Author’s Note – When I was little it was often said, in jest, that we should always finish our meals because, “There are people starving in Japan.” Well, currently that is the case. Maybe they aren’t starving, but they need help. So please take the time to click the link below and give what you can. Thanks.


Red Cross - Japan disaster relief