The convenient villain

Why Are We Attacking Messengers Instead of Evidence?

Last week, the Lancet published a series of papers on Ultra-Processed Foods and the alleged dangers they pose. It is a complicated topic that ranges from basic physiology (do these foods really harm health) to social questions (how do ultra-processed foods and industry affect our food system).

There has obviously been a lot of media coverage - and many scientists have offered a commentary via the Science Media Centre. As can be expected from academics, opinions varied and some were more critical than others. After all, scientists are used to criticising other ideas - and to receive criticism. It is the way science (should) progress (let’s ignore the Planck principle for now).

Unfortunately, this didn’t go down well. One of the authors stated that the Lancet-series was only criticised by academics with personal or institutional links to the food industry.

[…], co-author of one of the papers […] accused scientists who criticise UPF research of often having ties to the food industry. […] [co-author of one of these papers], similarly accused the UPF industry of “targeting the scientists, and the science, attempting to manufacture scientific doubt.” (Euractiv, 19 November 2025)

That is of course a convenient way to deal with criticism: why deal with methodological criticism when one can simply attack and discredit the messenger? It’s so much easier and much more media-friendly: who wants to listen to lengthy explanations about residual confounding or details of policies, when one can simply have an evil villain? If it works well for vaccines, why not use it for food?

I find it fascinating how the ultra-processed food movement seems to rely on the corrupt scientist defence. Instead of focusing on the criticisms - many of which are based on fairly basic technical aspects such as the difficulties of measuring UPF intake - there is a huge focus on critics and their affiliation:

“Many prominent critics of frameworks such as NOVA have financial or institutional ties to the food and beverage industry” (Malon et al., 2018)

This has been going every since, with many column inches dedicated to exposing alleged conflicts of interest by UK academics.

This raises the big question: why focus on the person and not the facts? Why not simply show that all these critics are fundamentally wrong and flawed and move on? After all, if these criticisms are just food industry noise, it shouldn’t be difficult to prove them wrong. But this never happens - so perhaps they are not so wrong after all and could harm the entire project.

Why the reluctance to engage on the science? If the criticisms were truly frivolous, a single robust paper would settle the matter. No such paper has materialised at scale. That silence is eloquent.

Good interests, bad interests and invisible ones

Implying that someone is corrupt because of some direct or indirect link with industry is a very easy way to discredit a person: they will have to defend themselves before being able to deal with the topic - and automatically look guilty.

But are they? Many UK academics have direct or indirect links with industry - applied research very often relies on industry funding, but even for fundamental research, the UK’s main funder encourages collaborations. However, the personal financial benefit is usually negligible: the funding is administered by the University and used for research - not to benefit the academic. And academics have to be transparent: not only do they have to declare their interests to publishers and their employer, but everyone can verify these by using the Freedom of Information Act.

It’s very different for many activists: royalties, speaker fees, media contracts, book sales, and the reputational economy of being a prominent campaigner are every bit as real as potential conflicts of academics. They shape incentives just as strongly as industry funding does - perhaps even more - but are rarely disclosed and almost never interrogated.

One set of incentives is transparent and modest; the other is opaque and potentially career-defining.

The real cost

Ad hominem attacks short-circuits scientific debate and erode public trust. There is little difference between attacking regulators for how they deal with vaccines or how they deal with food additives.

In the end, public health is not served by choosing a side and defending it with conspiracy rhetoric. It is served by insisting on evidence that can withstand scrutiny—regardless of who paid for the mass spectrometer or the book advance.

We should focus on the message, not the messenger.