As a Registered Dietitian Specialising in Disordered Eating, I have spoken to so many clients, colleagues and members of the public who have seen or experienced negative impacts due to the current scaremongering about ultra-processed foods (UPFs).
You can check out my previous article for a deep dive into UPFs and the evidence around them. In short, UPFs are hard to clearly define. While a high intake is linked with poorer health, the evidence base has significant limitations. Level of processing doesn’t automatically determine a food’s nutritional value, processing has nutritional benefits too, and cooking from scratch isn’t always better or realistic for everyone.
Disordered eating refers to a wide range of unhealthy attitudes and behaviours around food that fall short of a formal eating disorder diagnosis, but can still cause significant distress and harm. It includes patterns such as rigid food rules, obsessive calorie or ingredient checking, chronic dieting, guilt or shame after eating, restriction and rebound bingeing, and compulsive exercise.
Disordered eating is common, and it often goes unrecognised. In the UK, 22% of children and adolescents and 31% of adults show signs of disordered eating. On a global scale, a meta-analysis of over 30,000 people across 18 countries found that around 27.5% displayed symptoms of orthorexia nervosa – an unhealthy fixation on eating “pure” or “healthy” foods. And these figures could well be an underestimation, as disordered eating is difficult to define and measure, and many behaviours are so normalised within diet culture that people may not even identify them as problematic.
Eating disorders sit at the more severe end of this spectrum. In the UK, around 1.25 million people have an eating disorder, and the prevalence is increasing by roughly 7% each year. Binge-eating disorder is the most common type of eating disorder – affecting 1 in 50 people, with 40% of those affected being male. Anorexia nervosa has the highest mortality rate of any psychiatric disorder, underlining the seriousness of these conditions.
Fear-based messages about UPFs can lead to label obsession, heightened anxiety, unnecessary restriction, and cycles of bingeing after deprivation. For those already prone to disordered eating, or living with an eating disorder, the current discourse around UPFs can provide a socially acceptable way to justify restriction.
When foods are framed in moral terms (processed = bad, unprocessed/whole foods = good), it reinforces black-and-white thinking and catastrophising, fuelling shame and eroding trust in our own body cues. The fact that anti-UPF messages are often shared by seemingly authoritative figures, including doctors who lack nutrition training or qualifications, can make them especially insidious and triggering.
Unfortunately, not many studies have specifically looked into how messages about UPFs can impact our relationship with food. However, a study from 2019 did find that messages about “clean eating” and “natural” food was linked to disordered eating and orthorexia. There’s a good case to be made that the clean-eating craze from the 2010s has evolved into today’s UPF panic – the language and people promoting it have shifted, but the underlying fear, rigidity and moral framing is so similar.
A UK Sciencewise report from 2024 also found that public dialogue around UPFs has led to confusion, stress, and anxiety about everyday foods.
Certain groups appear particularly vulnerable. Young people, and those with a current or past history of disordered eating, are most at risk of internalising fear-based messages about UPFs. For them, advice framed in this way can easily trigger rigid food rules and cycles of guilt, anxiety, and disconnection from intuitive eating.
On a more anecdotal level, I’ve had numerous conversations and messages from people whose relationship with food has suffered as a result of UPF anxiety. People have told me that fear of UPFs have led to a relapse of their eating disorder. Parents described how they feel ashamed or paralysed when trying to feed children with additional needs such as allergies or selective eating. And many people have told me how they simply couldn’t feed themselves and their families without UPFs, and they now feel so much shame for this.
Some argue that concerns about disordered eating represent only a “minority issue,” and that public health messaging should focus on discouraging UPF consumption for the greater good. But this overlooks the scale of the problem. Disordered eating affects at least a third of the population (and likely more) – and the numbers are rising. It can affect anyone, at any life stage, and in severe cases may develop into a clinical eating disorder with potentially life-threatening consequences. Even if the numbers were lower, the seriousness of disordered eating and eating disorders make prevention a clear public health priority.
We also can’t even clearly define UPFs, and the evidence for avoiding or significantly reducing UPF consumption is weak, with numerous limitations. Furthermore, there are benefits to processing and UPFs can absolutely be included within a balanced, nutritious and sustainable diet (see my previous article for more information about this).
Importantly, we can still prioritise health and good nutrition without demonising, fearmongering or increasing the risk of disordered eating. We’ve seen time and time again that simply labelling certain foods as “bad” or “to be avoided” doesn’t lead to public health improvements. A more effective path lies in balanced, nuanced messaging that supports both physical and mental wellbeing, and helps people build a realistic, sustainable and positive relationship with food.
