The Myth Of Food Instinct
Anything we think we know about human instinct is, at best, philosophy layered over observation. We do not have a laboratory where we can isolate “pure instinct” and say with certainty, this is hardwired and this is learned. What we have are patterns that look obvious.
For example, human beings come equipped with a range of emotions. You do not have to teach a child to feel sadness. You do not teach happiness. Boredom is not a class they attend. Fear, joy, frustration, curiosity, they arise naturally. The intensity may differ, but the emotional architecture is shared.
Food, however, is less clear.
It does not seem that we possess a perfectly calibrated instinct for what we are supposed to eat. Whatever instinct we do have is likely inherited from our evolutionary ancestors, and not only from early humans, but from the broader animal kingdom we emerged from.
Imagine a four year old child separated from human caregivers, somehow surviving long enough to crawl, stand, and move. Hunger would arise. The child would observe other creatures. They use their mouths. They chew. They swallow. The child would experiment. Taste something. Notice bitterness. Notice sweetness. Notice texture. Eventually feel full. That feedback loop would form the basis of survival.
But survival is not the same as optimal health.
A child learning by observation could easily adopt a diet that keeps them alive in the short term while quietly damaging them in the long term. Satiation does not equal wisdom. Taste does not equal longevity.
When we look back before recorded history, it is tempting to romanticize the past. There were Aboriginal tribes in Australia for tens of thousands of years. Some individuals lived well past one hundred. Longevity existed. But the success of a creature does not depend only on diet. It depends on stress levels, climate, predators, warfare, injury, infection, and chance.
In modern times, we have undeniably extended lifespan through sanitation, medicine, and technology. Yet at the same time, we have engineered a strange paradox. We have also created slow acting poisons and placed them into the food category and the beverage category. We manufacture substances that dysregulate metabolism, inflame tissues, and distort appetite, and then we normalize them.
Over centuries, commerce formed around whatever human beings would pay for. Alcohol. Tobacco. Sugar. Refined flour. Every culture eventually monetized indulgence.
Ancient tribal societies that lived communally did not sell food to one another. They gathered, hunted, cultivated, and shared. The group ate together. Survival was collective. The person preparing food was not trying to maximize quarterly profit.
Now we live in a system where someone can make millions selling ultra processed snacks to children. The irony is that the person building that empire rarely eats the product the way their customers do. Profit and nourishment have separated.
What changed over the last few centuries is not merely recipes. It is the commodification of food. Once food became a high margin industry, it became vulnerable to corruption. Regulation attempts to restrain excess. Deregulation loosens it. Political cycles shift the boundaries. Meanwhile, individuals demand freedom. Freedom to choose. Freedom to consume.
But once a food category is invented and normalized, you cannot easily tell an entire population to stop eating it. Culture resists deletion.
So where does the confusion end?
It should begin with a few grounding principles.
First, nearly every credible voice in nutrition agrees on one thing. The elimination of ultra processed food is foundational. Whatever philosophical camp someone belongs to, paleo, vegan, Mediterranean, low fat, high carb, the common ground is clear. Remove the industrial products engineered for hyper palatability and long shelf life.
Second, and this is supported by basic physiology, the primary fuel source for human beings is carbohydrate in its natural form. Fruits. Vegetables. Roots. Tubers. Sprouts. Seeds. Nuts. Herbs used for flavor and their likely medicinal properties. These are the foods that provide fiber, micronutrients, phytonutrients, and glucose in its intended biological context.
Everything else becomes debate layered on top of that foundation.
The tragedy is not that we lack intelligence. It is that we built an economic machine around foods that exploit taste, convenience, and addiction. Our instinct was never designed to compete with laboratories.
And so we stand here confused, not because we are stupid, but because our ancient biology is trying to interpret signals in a food environment that has never existed before in human history.
This is where the real conversation begins.
Part 1: The Myth Of Food Instinct
Part 2: Sugar, Protein, And The Addiction Conversation
Part 3: So What The Hell Am I Supposed To Eat?