“How Is Your Diet?” –
When I meet people struggling with diabetes or other chronic health conditions, one of the first questions I ask is: "How is your diet?"
It sounds simple. But that one question often opens up a complicated conversation.
Most people pause. Then they say something like, “I’m trying,” or “I can do better.” It tells me one thing: Most of us already know what’s good for us. We know a can of Coke isn’t a health tonic. We know that McDonald’s burgers, fries, and a large Pepsi isn’t what our bodies thrive on. And we know that fresh vegetables, fruits, and whole foods are generally better than roadside shawarma or a frozen pizza.
But here’s where things get messy—very messy.
Once we go past the basics and try to define what exactly makes a food healthy or unhealthy, suddenly, we’re in a war zone. Everyone’s got an opinion. Everyone’s picked a camp. Vegan. Carnivore. Keto. Mediterranean. Pescatarian. Paleo. Raw. And the list goes on. It’s as if food—our daily bread—has become as divisive as politics or religion.
But how did we get here?
A Little Food History: From Sacred Plants to Scientific Meals
Believe it or not, the fight over food is not new.
As far back as 500 BCE, Greek philosopher Pythagoras promoted a form of vegetarianism—not necessarily for health reasons, but for ethical and spiritual ones. He believed in the transmigration of souls and that all living beings, including animals, were sacred. His dietary philosophy lived on through various philosophical schools and religious practices.
Across the world, in India, many Jain and Buddhist monks practiced strict vegetarianism for similar reasons: the belief in ahimsa, or non-violence toward all living beings. For them, food wasn’t just sustenance—it was a moral statement.
Even in popular media like Avatar: The Last Airbender, we see the character of Aang, a monk, adhering to a plant-based diet, reinforcing the idea that food can be a spiritual practice.
Fast forward to the 20th century, and things start to shift. Vegetarianism entered the Western mainstream more through health and environmental concerns. The 1970s saw a rise in counterculture movements that questioned industrial food systems. Then came the 2000s, and suddenly celebrities were endorsing veganism. Scientific studies poured in, linking plant-based diets to lower rates of heart disease, cancer, and obesity.
It felt like the case was closed: Eat plants. Live longer. Save the planet.
Enter: The Counter-Narratives
Then... the internet exploded. And with it, came a million stories challenging the mainstream.
People started switching from veganism back to omnivorous diets after reporting fatigue, mood changes, or worsening health. Others couldn’t stick to a plant-based diet because they just wanted to enjoy some barbecue now and then.
So, the variations began:
Pescatarian (plants + fish)
Flexitarian (mostly plants, but not strictly)
Vegan vs Vegetarian (Still confusing to many. Simply put: vegetarians may eat eggs and dairy; vegans do not consume any animal products at all.)
And then came the Carnivore Diet—or as some call it, the Lion Diet.
This was a shocker. After decades of hearing that red meat kills, here were people claiming to eat nothing but meat—and healing from chronic autoimmune diseases, type 2 diabetes, even depression. The most well-known example is Dr. Jordan Peterson, a prominent psychologist who reported that a strict carnivore diet drastically improved his health and mental well-being.
I thought it was a joke at first. Then I started reading testimonies. Watching interviews. Seeing people reverse real health problems—by doing the exact opposite of what mainstream dietary advice suggested.
The Keto Comeback
And what about keto?
The ketogenic diet isn’t new either. It was first used clinically in the 1920s to help children with epilepsy who didn’t respond to medication. It worked. But back then, it was seen as a therapeutic diet—not something the average person would do for weight loss or longevity.
Today, keto is everywhere. The low-carb, high-fat movement has produced bestsellers, documentaries, and meal delivery startups. People on keto report improved focus, energy, and dramatic weight loss. But others complain of the “keto flu,” electrolyte imbalances, or long-term unsustainability.
The Mediterranean Middle Ground
Then there’s the Mediterranean diet—often praised as the sensible, balanced approach. Inspired by the eating habits of people in Greece, Italy, and Spain in the 1960s, it emphasizes whole grains, legumes, vegetables, olive oil, fish, and wine (yes, wine).
It’s perhaps the least controversial diet, backed by decades of research linking it to cardiovascular health and longevity. Yet even here, some people find it doesn’t meet their individual health needs.
Why the Food Wars?
So, why are we fighting over food?
Why do people become almost religiously dogmatic about what you should eat?
Here are a few theories:
Food is Identity: What we eat is deeply personal. It’s tied to our culture, upbringing, and sense of self. Telling someone their food is “wrong” can feel like an attack on their identity.
Tribalism and Social Media: Online communities have become echo chambers. Whether you’re keto or vegan, there’s a subreddit, a YouTube channel, and a podcast reinforcing your beliefs. It’s comforting. But it also divides.
Big Food and Big Pharma: Since the post-WWII era, food production in the West has been heavily subsidized. Crops like corn, wheat, and soy receive government support, leading to ultra-processed food dominance. Companies like Nestlé, Coca-Cola, and General Mills have a vested interest in promoting high-margin, low-nutrient products.
Profit Over Health: Ultra-processed foods are engineered to be addictive. The global processed food industry is worth trillions. Pushing certain narratives—like low-fat diets or calorie counting—has often served corporate interests more than public health.
Lack of Personalization: Perhaps the biggest issue is this: we are not the same. Our genetics, microbiomes, activity levels, and even our mental health differ. One person thrives on veganism, another crashes. One person reverses diabetes on keto, another feels sluggish. There is no one-size-fits-all.
What If We Just... Listened?
I’m beginning to think that instead of fighting, we should start asking better questions.
What foods make you feel good, consistently?
What can you sustain for the next 10 years, not just 10 days?
What is your body telling you?
We’re all trying. Some of us succeed. Some of us relapse. But we all eat—and we all want to feel better.
So maybe the real question isn’t “How is your diet?” but “How is your health?” And what can we do—individually and collectively—to improve that without judgment?
Food shouldn’t divide us. It should nourish us. And that starts with giving each other the space to figure out what works best for our bodies—not just what works for yours.
What do you think? Why are we fighting over food today—and is it time we called a truce?
Let me know in the comments.👇