Years ago, at the large, high-quality healthcare organization at which I was working, I proposed that we should consider removing (or drastically modifying) the junk food vending machines at the organization’s various sites. My argument was rather simple (and retrospectively, simplistic): How can we call ourselves a “health”-care organization that wants to address obesity when we can’t even foster a healthy, less obesogenic working environment for our employees?
The response to my suggestion was both surprising and overwhelmingly negative, and can be summarized like this: “Why should we punish the majority because a minority doesn’t have “willpower?”
I shouldn’t have been surprised at the response. You see, at that point, I hadn’t yet recognized obesity as a wicked problem, one in which even the definition of obesity (and its causes) would be contentious. It was way too early to suggest ideas that may help.
Now I would approach it much differently. I would first discuss the broad aspect of healthy environments in general, leaving the word obesity out of the discussion completely. I would ask for people to point out areas of the organization which encouraged health, and then ask for people to point out areas that needed improvement. And then, when the food environment was eventually pointed out, I wouldn’t just approach it from the perspective of logos (reason), but also the perspective of ethos (character), and pathos (emotion).
I wouldn’t just present the studies about the effect of sugar drinks on sodas, but also the ethical obligation of the organization to be a “health” role model in the community, and the emotional suffering associated with obesity stigma.
And I certainly wouldn’t get upset at their response. After all, people’s knee-jerk emotional response to all things associated with obesity is part of what makes obesity a wicked problem, and getting upset myself is similar to struggling while sinking in quicksand. It just makes it worse.