Vintage cereal boxes: breakfast cereals have been especially implicated in childhood obesity. Photo: Getty
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How the lessons of the long war on tobacco can help us shape up on our new front line: obesity

The NHS is gradually waking up to the need to provide structured support to people keen to lose weight, just like smoking cessation services.

Last month, Dame Sally Davies, the Chief Medical Officer for England, published her annual report on the nation’s health. I was struck by her assertion that two-thirds of adults are now either overweight (body mass index over 25) or obese (BMI over 30). The statistic reminded me that in the 1960s, the peak of the UK smoking epidemic, 70 per cent of men and 40 per cent of women were smokers.

At such levels of prevalence, cultural perceptions alter. It appears normal for people to smoke, a conclusion subliminally supported by the ready availability of tobacco; by the provision of ashtrays in planes, trains and cars; by adverts in every form of media. We are witnessing a similar “normalisation” of obesity, with shop mannequins getting larger, “inflation” in clothing sizes and furniture design being altered to accommodate the new norms.

The historic smoking prevalence data came to mind because in February, figures from 2013 were published showing that the proportion of smokers in the English population had fallen below 20 per cent for the first time. The campaign waged against tobacco over the past 50 years tells us everything we need to know about effecting a similar reduction in rates of obesity.

The prerequisite is information. The tide started to turn against smoking following the publication, in 1962, of the first study to demonstrate persuasively the unequivocal link with lung cancer. The drip-drip of new health information gathered pace and by the 1970s the inexorable rise in smoking prevalence had begun to reverse. The strong links between obesity and conditions such as heart disease, stroke, diabetes and three of the four most common cancers (bowel, breast and prostate) are well established but have yet to lodge in the public consciousness. Most people are aware that being overweight is somehow not good for you but have only a vague idea as to the extent of the problem. I have several obese patients who have been shocked to learn that their weight poses comparable risks of disability and premature death to being inveterate smokers.

Information alone is insufficient. Losing weight is, for most, at least as challenging as quitting nicotine. Research is making clear that large “hits” of sugar, be it “off the spoon” or “hidden” in processed food, have addictive potential. The same may be true of fried foods. The NHS is gradually waking up to the need to provide structured support to people keen to lose weight, just as it devotes considerable resources to smoking cessation services.

The experience of tackling smoking suggests that wider measures will also be needed. Stiff taxation has made tobacco much less affordable. Advertising and shop display prohibition and stark health warnings on packaging have contributed to the message that tobacco use is no longer normal behaviour. Bans on smoking in public places – and soon in cars with children – also serve to marginalise the habit further.

The situation is more complex for obesity. Eating and drinking are normal activities and there is no single culprit product on which the government can train its sights. Having said that, there is good evidence that ministers could get to work on. Sugar in soft drinks (and added almost routinely to processed foods) makes a major contribution to overall calorie intake. There should be an immediate ban on any product being marketed as “low” or “no fat” – or, indeed, trumpeting its freedom from “artificial flavourings and additives” – when it is stuffed full of sugar instead. Breakfast cereals, particularly those aimed at children, are by and large a national scandal.

Several European countries have already introduced a “sugar tax” and the UK should follow suit, though the industry will resist it with vigorous lobbying.

Junk food is also under the spotlight. A neat piece of research published recently in the British Medical Journal established clear links between obesity rates and the density of fast-food outlets around people’s homes and workplaces and along their commuting routes. Will there come a time when diners consuming reasonably priced, healthy whole foods sit comfortably inside warm restaurants, while shame-faced burger munchers huddle beneath a shelter in the windswept car park?

In our efforts to tackle the obesity epidemic, we must take care not to stigmatise the overweight. A small proportion of obesity is genetically determined. For the rest, outward appearances are rarely indicative of simplistic so-called failings such as gluttony. Excess weight is driven by ubiquitous low-cost, energy-dense food, by time- and exercise-poor lifestyles and by a failure of education and information to keep pace with the rapid changes that food technology has brought about over the past three decades. Obesity can also be a manifestation of the same emotional wounds that drive more conventional addictions.

We need compassion for ourselves and for each other. But as the smoking epidemic smoulders towards its conclusion, we need to face the public health crisis that has grown in its wake – and we need to shape up fast.

This article first appeared in the 09 April 2014 issue of the New Statesman, Anxiety nation

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Jamie Reed: What it's like to stop being an MP

As I approach the whips’ office through the tearoom staircase, a colleague shouts: “It’s Steve McQueen!”

Leaving parliament was never going to be easy. Having entered the Commons at a relatively young age – I was 31 – I knew that a parliamentary existence would be strange, even weird.

I knew that I would never be a “lifer”. A long Commons career followed by a sinecure in the Lords was never for me. This was informed by an aversion not to prolonged public service – the career in the nuclear industry for which I have departed parliament is just as dedicated to public service – but to the culture in which politics in Westminster is undertaken. There is a lot wrong with parliament. I arrived with a healthy contempt for its culture, behaviours and practices; I leave with the knowledge that this contempt was correct.

As a young MP, I felt like Carraway, never like Gatsby. Still, leaving the Commons has taken a huge mental and emotional effort.

21 December 2016

The news of my resignation breaks a few hours early because of a leak. The ­Guardian’s north of England editor, Helen Pidd, brings forward the publication of our interview as a result. Within minutes, my phone explodes. Twitter is unusable. My email server begins to creak. I watch with mounting ­anxiety. Ignoring calls from journalists – many of them friends – I talk instead with my fellow MP John Woodcock.

In politics, you acquire a sixth sense for who would be with you in the trenches at the worst moments. John is such a person. I don’t remember the conversation; I just remember hanging up and crying. I ­shower, dress and head for my in-laws’ farm. When I open the door, there are bottles of champagne on the step. That night, trying to avoid the news, I learn that I was young, popular, brilliant and talented. It’s like being at my own funeral. I drink the champagne.

24 December

I receive a text from Jeremy Corbyn wishing me and my family well. I thank him for his warm words on my resignation.

9 January 2017

I’m en route to the Vogtle nuclear power plant near Atlanta, Georgia, as a guest of NuGen. At Vogtle, Georgia Power is building two AP1000 reactors – the same type as will be built in Copeland. This is a project to which I have devoted 12 years of my life – from writing nuclear policy with the Blair government to making sure that Copeland was chosen as a nuclear new-build site and working to ensure that successive governments maintained the policies underpinning the nuclear renaissance that the Blair-Brown administration began.

Clement Attlee’s Labour government created the nuclear industry, the last Labour government created the nuclear renaissance and I am leaving parliament to return to the nuclear industry – yet Labour will be forced to fight the by-election in my former seat amid allegations of being anti-nuclear. There is nothing new in post-truth politics. Lies have always had the power to seduce.

23 January

It’s my last week in parliament and I’ve made arrangements to see the whips. As I approach the whips’ office through the tearoom staircase, a colleague shouts: “It’s Steve McQueen!”

1 February

I leave my home in Whitehaven for Sellafield at 6.45am. As I drive through the frost, an iridescent light appears on the horizon: a new dawn has broken, has it not?

I collect my pass and enter a whirlwind of meetings, inductions and instructions. Everyone is generous, welcoming and warm. It is at this point that, for the first time, I am faced with irrefutable proof that I am no longer an MP. I am reminded of my parliamentary induction. Chief Whip Hilary Armstrong told us, “Get in the chamber . . . Don’t hide . . . Sink or swim . . .” New Labour was no place for a snowflake. I am reminded, too, of my induction by the House payroll and expenses administrators. A year before the expenses scandal shook Westminster, they informed me: “All we ask is that you don’t buy any antiques . . .”

2 February

As when I entered parliament for the first time, I don’t have a desk. I’m hot-desking, or hot-podding, or hot-cubing. I remind myself that, for now, I remain the Crown steward and bailiff of the Manor of Northstead.

I bump into a colleague from my first time in the nuclear industry. “All right?” he asks.

“Getting there,” I reply.

“You know what they’re saying, don’t you?” he continues.

“No. What?”

“‘The bloody ego has landed.’”

I walk away wondering if it’s now my role in life to remind people of films set in the Second World War.

3 February

It’s a Friday and it strikes me that I have no constituency surgery. Everyone around me has their head down, meeting targets, solving problems. This is a £2bn-a-year operation. There’s no room for Gatsby here. This is why my new role excites me.

The self-immolating stupidity of Brexit, combined with the complex and growing needs of my family, contributed to my decision to leave parliament. Most of all, though, it was the opportunity to work in this organisation and help to drive change within it and my community that caused me to make the switch. My former constituency can and should be at the centre of one of the fastest-growing parts of the UK economy in the years to come. A changing Sellafield and a dynamic industry will be at the heart of this, and time is of the essence.

20 February

The by-election in my former seat draws near and my time as the Crown steward is running out.

I am repeatedly approached by the media for comment and I duck every request. This is for someone else now and I wish my successor well. None of us is indispensable. l

Jamie Reed is Labour MP for Copeland.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit