“They’re eating the dogs”: Reflections on the politics of the palate

You will have heard the expression “the politics of the stomach” or the “politics of the belly”, I am sure. But these US elections and some recent experiences have got me reflecting on the more subtle “politics of the palate”, as it might be called.

The politics of the belly is a complex metaphor which usually refers to the relationship between clientelism, corruption and power – a form of government often associated with postcolonial African states.[1] Vote-buying through the manipulation of famine and food aid is but one element of this politics. At the other end of the scale are politicians (or “chefs” as we call them in Zimbabwe) getting fat off the ill-gotten wealth that never reaches the masses.

It is not an image often associated with or applied to Western, First World nations. Yet, there seem to be some subtler ways in which consumption, the belly and palate play out even there. I refer to this as the politics of the palate because the dynamics seem less connected to raw hunger and power, but more subtly to the manipulation of desirable consumables and images of food and everyday luxuries for political gain.

Last year a friend who is a history professor in America visited Cape Town. He brought as a gift an interesting political artefact which he knew would appeal to me: a slab of milk chocolate. But not just any old bar. This one was made in 2020 and issued by the Presidency of the United States of America – I’m not sure as a gift or for general sale. It is emblazoned not only with the flag and Presidential seal, but also a full colour picture of the then President Donald Trump’s grinning face.

You will remember that 2020 was an election year. Trump’s heavily made-up face is somewhat reminiscent of Willy Wonka, suggesting to me that a winning golden ticket might just also be hidden in the wrapper. I’m not sure if Biden or any other US president has flooded the market with this kind of branded consumable, but it does rather smack of not-so subtle marketing of Brand Trump ahead of the elections. In the current election we have seen both sides attempting to use food as a symbol of their attachment to ordinary voters. Tim Walz’s consumption of pork chops at the Wisconsin State Fair, for example. And then there was JD Vance’s not so successful attempt to order doughnuts. Trump also arranged a media stunt at a McDonalds to try to suggest he is in touch with the working class.

Then, or course, there is his infamous use of an old trope about immigrants eating the pets of middle-class residents in Springfield, Ohio. I remember Harare in the 1980s and there being rumours that suburban resident’s cats and dogs were disappearing because there were Chinese workers building the nearby National Sports Stadium. It's an old one.

Thinking of China, I had another experience this year that also illustrates how politicians cleverly manipulate the finer things of life for political gain. I was at a tea tasting at a Cape Town tea shop, owned by a Taiwanese man and his wife. As part of the owner’s talk, he showed us an old compressed brick of black tea, which was also one of the teas we were sampling. He explained that his mother had owned this tea for 50 years, and had given it to him recently. Apparently Chinese healers used to be known for their deep knowledge of various teas and their healing properties, and people used to consult them when they needed advice or remedies.

However, during Mao's cultural revolution (1966–1976) the healers were all hounded out or killed. In a stunning act of cultural appropriation, Mao's government then used tea as part of its push to ensure mass loyalty to the Party. These compressed bricks of tea were given (or sold) to Chinese citizens, complete with appropriate propaganda messaging. The old tea brick we sampled came with a little red pamphlet on which Mao’s portrait and a group of people waving the Chinese flag are printed. The writing on the leaflet reads: "Follow Chairman Mao's revolutionary path – strive for victory!"

There is always a hidden story in what we eat and drink – the occluded socio-economic and social relations, networks, systems and structures of the value chain that gets the product from the field or factory to the plate. I’ve always been fascinated in understanding this. Politicians know the pull that food has over us, and use it in their messaging. But it seems to be about more than bread and butter, with certain treats also holding immense power to garner political capital.

The best before date on my slab of chocolate is 1 February 2024. I’m hoping the man whose face is on the bar has an expiry date of 5 November 2024. One day I might sell it on E-Bay when he’s a distant bad memory.

[1] https://encyclopedia.pub/entry/36588