The very idea that gaining or losing weight is contagious is utterly preposterous. At any rate, the way in which gaining or losing weight is contagious is rather like the way in which a smile is contagious. So when a study by Nicholas Christakis and James Fowler, entitled “The Spread of Obesity in a Large Social Network Over 32 Years, appears in the prestigious New England Journal of Medicine (26 July 2007), which claims that gaining or losing weight is contagious, what we know is that this characterization is none other than a metaphorical way of speaking. What we have here is not an instance of contagion, but something more pernicious, which I shall identify below.
What is true, of course, is that most of us are influenced significantly by the social network with which we identity. This truth is quite significant. However, this truth is a very long ways from being identical to the claim that gaining or losing weight is contagious. Diseases can be contagious, patterns of behavior cannot be.
What concerns me is the language of the study. Consider. It is certainly true that I am more likely to laugh around friends who laugh a lot than around friends who frown a lot. In that sense we can say, metaphorically, that laughing is contagious. But wait a minute. Suppose I join my friends for an evening out and they become horrendously drunk, whereas I remain sober. In that drunken state, my friends witness a child being brutally beaten and start laughing uncontrollably. Would their laughing excuse my laughing? I should hope not. If while fully sober, I also start laughing at the child being physically abused, then my behavior is without question morally despicable. Suppose that in their drunken state my friends join in and start hitting the child. If anything is true, it most certainly is true that my joining in would be utterly inexcusable.
The point of the preceding story is exceedingly simple: Immoral behavior on the part of our friends does not excuse morally inappropriate behavior on our part. There is a term for this sort of independence. It is called free will. Admittedly, free admits of degrees. There is a straightforward sense in which an entirely inebriated person has less free will. And if I am bound and gagged, then my free will has been reduced even more. I am even prepared to allows that certain sorts of mental states, such as severe depression may reduce a person’s free will.
But here is my question:
If all my friends are fat, exactly how is it supposed to follow that truth that I am now rather likely to become fat in a way that is analogous to the fatness on the part of my friends being contagious?
In what follows, I am now going to no doubt offend a few folks. But let me admit at the outset that I am rather fortunate in that I have never really had to worry about being fat. Indeed, I can in general take very little credit for being thin. Well, perhaps that is not quite right. My being thin is may be more tied to my lifestyle than first meets the eye. I take the steps and I walk a lot. As a matter of principle, I walk up the steps unless I am going pass the fifth floor. Even in a steep public subway system such as the one found in Washington, D.C., I use the steps rather than follow the crowd and ride the escalator. Nature may have given me an edge, but I have adopted quite a few modes of being in my life that reinforce the edge that nature has given to me.
So back to my question:
If all my friends are fat, exactly how is it supposed to follow that truth that I am now rather likely to become fat in a way that is analogous to the fatness on the part of my friends being contagious?
First of all, how often do we see a fat person and say to ourselves: “I sure as hell want to look like that fat person!” Or, “If I could move like that fat person moves, I would be in 7th heaven!” To be sure, I have seen a few heavy-set people who, as we say, know how to carry their weight. But I have never looked upon such a person with envy, because I found the individual’s body-size to a model of what I might want in a body. By contrast, I have seen a fair number of women look at me with considerable appreciation (which more than suffices to keep me walking up those steps). I have seen a few women take give me that look of appreciation although I would hardly characterize myself as handsome.
This is why I have the question that I have. To the put the question, another way: Why isn’t it that fat people repulse us rather than “cause” us to become fat? The language is harsh, but it is very important to speak that way. We may very well be—indeed, we should be—nice and kind and considerate to a person who is fat, but thinking that such a person is physically attractive seems rather implausible.
So if the study in the NEJM is correct, then what we are to believe is that being around fat people inclines us to acquire a body form that we actually find repulsive.
The thinking behind the study, by Christakis and Fowler, is presumably that what have here must constitute a contagion; otherwise, thin people who are around fat people would not become fat.
Alas, there is a much simpler explanation that draws its inspiration from Milgram’s classic work, Obedience to Authority, namely that human beings do not have the moral fiber that one would think they have, given how much they clamor for freedom; accordingly, we often use the unacceptable behavior of others as an excuse for like unacceptable behavior on our part. Hence, the more fat people we associate with the more likely we are to excuse our becoming fat. By contrast, if our friends become thin, then the more difficult it becomes to excuse our own behavior. So we, too, become thin.
The explanation, in the end, is simply that we fail to take full responsibility for our own lives. There is nothing remotely resembling any kind of causal relation between one person’s being fat and another person (a non-family member) being fat. So we can’t possibly have a contagion in this sort of case.
Alas, if the study is right, then things simply do not bode well for democracy. For what the study portends is that human beings are far more like lemmings than not, in that we follow others even when the course leads to our own demise. Otherwise, no one should get fat owing merely to being around fat friends, precisely because there is nothing whatsoever about the behavior of fat friends that is even remotely appealing—if, that is, one is a healthy person who is not fat. The language of “contagion” masks this insight.
There is not a single dimension of human behavior from sexual attraction to sheer movement that comes even remotely close to suggesting that being fat is the way to go. What is more, no one goes to bed skinny and wakes up fat. Accordingly, it is not as if there are not clear warning signs: like the entire former wardrobe no longer fits. So if merely being around fat friends is all it takes to render us unable to control our becoming fat, then we human beings are indeed quite a pitiful species.
The NEJM study is a profound indictment of the lack of will on the part of human beings to pursue their own moral and physical well-being. Most changes in life are not nearly as straightforward, on every dimension, as is becoming fat. So if all it takes to lose our will to remain non-fat is being surrounded by fat friends, as the study suggests, then much of the moral behavior that we should exhibit towards one another has simply no chance at all of remaining a part of the social fabric of our lives. That is what the study in the NEJM really shows. And that is frightening. Indeed, the proof of just how morally vapid we have become is that the authors of the study should characterize becoming fat as a contagion.
For the record, I understand that for some people there are significant health issues with respect to weight. Nothing I have said is incompatible with or contravenes that truth. But then for these people, although being fat is a medical problem, it is not at all about being fat being contagious. Nothing I have said pertains to individuals with health problems of this nature.