Sweetgreen CEO Jonathan Nemen sparked a firestorm in October 2021 when he posted on Linkedin that America hadn’t been paying enough attention to obesity’s role in aggravating Covid’s dangers. While endorsing the vaccines, Nemen seemed to downplay their usefulness as public health measures, lamenting that Covid “is here to stay for the foreseeable future” because “no vaccine nor mask will save us.” Foregoing these false hopes, Nemen recommended focusing on the root cause of many Americans’ susceptibility to Covid’s worst outcomes, our unhealthy lifestyles and, specifically, surging rates of obesity, suggesting that, with government health mandates now de rigueur, we might consider taxing “processed food and refined sugar to pay for the impact of the pandemic” and “incentivize health.”
This foray into social commentary drew sharp rebukes from progressives, who condemned Nemen for fat shaming, devaluing the vaccines, and blaming obesity on individual lifestyle choices rather than larger socioeconomic inequalities. Neeman later apologized for his insensitivity on these fronts, while apparently standing by his larger message that obesity is a grave public health threat and the driving force behind many Covid-related hospitalizations and deaths. But this larger message, too, offended some progressives, as it effectively shifted responsibility for Covid’s ongoing ravages from one of the American Right’s putative victim groups — unmasked, MAGA-inclined vaccine rejectionists — to one of the Left’s, fat people laid low by a fatphobic culture. Whatever Nemen’s intent, the refreshing message heard by many right-wing anti-vaxxers was that fat people, not they, were the ones exacerbating a public health crisis. The subtext was that fat people — and especially their enablers in the fat acceptance movement — had yet to be held to account for their unhealthy preferences, even as Covid vaccine refusniks had been dragged through the mud by mainstream media, dismissed as cranks.
Conservatives eagerly seize on fat acceptance as a paradigmatic illustration of everything wrong with the cultural Left and its nihilistic rejection of traditional values, such as discipline, self-control, and deferred gratification. The Daily Wire’s Matt Walsh condemns the movement as a “celebration of self-destruction.” His colleague Ben Shapiro contrasts the elites’ censoriousness toward anti-vaxxers with their embrace of fat acceptance, lamenting the hypocrisy of cultural norms that facilitated an endless slew of Covid-era health mandates while making it fatphobic to tell someone they need to lose ten pounds. Conservatives believe fat acceptance gives the lie to the liberal shibboleth that right-wingers are more greatly anti-intellectual or anti-science, as liberals’ sympathy for a movement that denies or downplays the health risks of obesity suggests they’re fully prepared to sacrifice scientific truth to ideological convenience. The Sweetgreen affair could serve as a culture wars flashpoint because it foregrounded this conservative grievance against a perceived double standard that shields the Left from attacks that are routinely meted out to the Right.
The parallels between fat acceptance and vaccine rejectionism are noteworthy. Both insist that established medical authorities have either fabricated or overblown health risks — whether of obesity or remaining unvaccinated — to bring the masses into compliance with the cultural preferences of a dominant group, arguing that the reigning medical consensus on their issue is the ideological instrument of an unjust social hierarchy. For fat acceptance, the bottom of that hierarchy is occupied by fat people victimized by fatphobia dressed up as expertise and benevolence. In this vein, Deborah McPhail and Michael Orsini charge that “obesity” is a “deeply problematic” medical concept that “causes harm to people under the guise of benign objectivity.” For today’s vaccine rejectionists, the marginalized group is right-leaning “ordinary Americans” held in contempt by an expert class of liberal elites convinced of their moral, intellectual, and cultural superiority. Tucker Carlson, for example, has inveighed that the covert purpose of the military’s Covid vaccine mandates was to identify and root out sincere Christians, freethinkers, men with high testosterone, and anyone else not supporting Joe Biden.
Having rejected the medical consensus, both movements must insist that what purports to be the cure — dieting or vaccination — is more dangerous than the alleged disease. Just as some anti-vaxxers insisted that millions were dying, not from Covid but from the vaccines that were said to thwart it, so fat activists attribute the myriad illnesses from which fat people suffer disproportionately to the psychic harms inflicted by the “diet culture” of a fatphobic society, rather than to fatness itself (ignoring that rates of obesity and a host of associated diseases have skyrocketed hand in hand with the introduction of ultraprocessed food across the globe, irrespective of local cultural values). Fat activists and anti-vaxxers alike may have sundry scientific studies at their fingertips to support their renegade opinions, and genuine experts will readily discern why the support is superficial, but untutored laypersons may be ill-equipped to debate the ideologically committed activists. Both movements also have credentialed advocates who lack specialized expertise in the relevant subject but whose MDs or PhDs lend their views a patina of intellectual credibility in the eyes of their followers.
Grok says:
Rony Guldmann’s essay, “Fat Acceptance and Vaccine Rejectionism,” published on Daily Philosophy on March 8, 2025, offers a provocative comparison between two seemingly disparate social phenomena: the fat acceptance movement and vaccine rejectionism. Guldmann, a philosopher and attorney, argues that both movements share underlying cultural and philosophical roots, particularly in their resistance to mainstream scientific and moral consensus. Below, I’ll analyze the essay’s key arguments, structure, strengths, and weaknesses, while keeping the analysis grounded in the text itself.
Summary of the Essay
Guldmann begins by framing fat acceptance and vaccine rejectionism as responses to perceived cultural oppression, where advocates in both camps reject what they see as coercive societal norms imposed by elites—whether medical, scientific, or cultural. He suggests that both movements invert “common sense” by prioritizing individual autonomy and skepticism over collective health imperatives. For fat acceptance, this manifests as a rejection of the stigma around obesity and the moralization of food choices, while for vaccine rejectionism, it appears as distrust of medical authority and pharmaceutical agendas.
The essay draws parallels between the rhetoric and logic of these movements. For instance, Guldmann highlights how fat activists argue that cultural stigma harms health more than obesity itself, akin to how vaccine skeptics claim that vaccine mandates infringe on personal freedom more than unvaccinated status endangers public health. He cites specific examples, like fat activist Virginia Sole-Smith’s “food neutrality” parenting philosophy, which he compares to anti-vax parents’ “vaccine neutrality,” suggesting both reflect a deeper ideological commitment to individual choice over expert-driven norms.
Guldmann also explores why fat acceptance enjoys greater traction among liberal elites compared to vaccine rejectionism, despite their structural similarities. He posits that fat acceptance aligns with progressive narratives of bodily autonomy and anti-stigmatization, while vaccine rejectionism clashes with the same elites’ trust in institutional science. The essay concludes by framing both movements as part of a broader cultural war, where personal identity and moral conviction increasingly trump empirical consensus.
Key Arguments
Shared Resistance to Authority: Guldmann’s central thesis is that both fat acceptance and vaccine rejectionism reject hegemonic authority—medical science in the case of vaccines, and societal norms around body size for fat acceptance. He argues this stems from a shared distrust of “elites” who dictate what constitutes health or morality.Inversion of Common Sense: Both movements challenge widely accepted truths (e.g., obesity is unhealthy, vaccines are essential) by reframing the debate around personal harm (stigma or coercion) rather than collective well-being. Guldmann sees this as a deliberate philosophical stance, not mere ignorance.
Cultural Reception: Guldmann notes the asymmetry in how these movements are received: fat acceptance is more palatable to liberal circles because it fits within a framework of social justice, whereas vaccine rejectionism is often dismissed as irrational or dangerous, despite similar anti-establishment underpinnings.
Structure and Style
The essay is structured as a comparative analysis, moving fluidly between descriptions of each movement and their philosophical overlap. Guldmann employs a mix of anecdotal evidence (e.g., Sole-Smith’s parenting approach) and broader cultural critique, supported by references to figures like Ben Shapiro to ground his observations in contemporary discourse. His style is dense yet accessible, blending philosophical reflection with social commentary, though it occasionally assumes familiarity with the cultural contexts he critiques.
Strengths
Original Comparison: The juxtaposition of fat acceptance and vaccine rejectionism is novel and thought-provoking. By highlighting their shared anti-authoritarian streak, Guldmann invites readers to reconsider assumptions about these movements’ motivations.Cultural Insight: The essay effectively captures the zeitgeist of polarized discourse, where personal identity and skepticism of expertise dominate public debates. His point about liberal elites’ selective embrace of fat acceptance over vaccine skepticism rings true in light of current political divides.
Philosophical Depth: Guldmann’s framing of these movements as inversions of “common sense” elevates the discussion beyond surface-level policy debates, rooting it in deeper questions of autonomy, morality, and societal norms.
Weaknesses
Lack of Empirical Support: While Guldmann’s argument is conceptually compelling, it leans heavily on rhetorical parallels rather than data or detailed case studies. For example, he doesn’t substantiate claims about the health impacts of stigma versus obesity with evidence, weakening his critique of fat acceptance’s premises.Overgeneralization: The essay sometimes paints both movements with broad strokes, risking oversimplification. Not all fat acceptance advocates reject health science outright, nor do all vaccine skeptics base their views on personal autonomy—some cite specific (if dubious) scientific claims.
Unexplored Counterarguments: Guldmann doesn’t fully engage with potential rebuttals. For instance, vaccine mandates are justified by public health outcomes (e.g., herd immunity), a utilitarian argument that differs starkly from the more symbolic fight against fat stigma. This asymmetry deserves more attention.
Critical Reflection
Guldmann’s essay shines as a philosophical provocation but falters as a rigorous analysis. His comparison illuminates an intriguing cultural pattern—distrust of authority as a unifying thread—but the analogy feels strained at times. Vaccine rejectionism has direct, measurable consequences (e.g., outbreaks of preventable diseases), while fat acceptance operates more in the realm of social perception and individual lifestyle. Equating their stakes risks downplaying the former’s urgency.
Moreover, his reliance on elite hypocrisy as an explanatory lens feels reductive. While liberal tolerance for fat acceptance over vaccine skepticism is real, it may reflect practical priorities (public safety versus personal dignity) rather than mere ideological inconsistency. A deeper dive into these nuances could strengthen his case.
Conclusion
“Fat Acceptance and Vaccine Rejectionism” is a bold, intellectually stimulating essay that challenges readers to see unexpected connections in contemporary culture wars. Guldmann succeeds in sparking debate about how we negotiate expertise, autonomy, and collective responsibility. However, its speculative nature and limited engagement with counterpoints leave it more as a conversation starter than a definitive argument. For those willing to suspend their biases—as the Daily Philosophy editor urges—it’s a worthwhile read that rewards critical reflection, even if it doesn’t fully convince.
