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Eating McDonalds in hospital

by Simon Longstaff

I attended boarding school in an era when the culinary norm was a relentlessly dull menu, occasionally punctuated by legendary concoctions such as ‘yellow death’ (a gelatinous, yellow, mass passed off as ‘scrambled eggs’) and ‘black death’ (a putative chocolate pudding of unfathomable provenance). I mention this in order to explain my inordinate excitement when ‘maccas’ opened a store within striking distance of my school. I can still remember my first ‘mac attack’; predominantly for its novelty value.

Since then, the novelty has worn off with the spread of the franchise to all corners of the known world (and that’s a lot of corners). The ubiquity of maccas’ presence is now a fact of life – only causing modest ripples of controversy when found in places like Stonehenge, the Forbidden City and the Vatican.  

But when it comes to locating outlets in, say, the Royal Children’s Hospital, the ripples of concern quickly build to the proportions of a tsunami. So, what should we make of the contending arguments?

The core of the argument against locating such stores in children’s hospitals is the claim that there is a fundamental mismatch between the objective of promoting better health and the nutritional value of ‘fast food’. An allied claim is that the quest to meet the challenge of childhood obesity is undermined by the presence of such outlets – which bask in the reflected health of their landlords.

In response, companies like McDonalds reject the claim that their products are intrinsically unhealthy. Instead, they argue that even their least nutritious offering should be seen for what it is – an occasional treat, to be consumed in moderation, and not a substitute food for all occasions. Furthermore, McDonalds now offers a range of relatively new products that have been designed explicitly to offer a healthy alternative.

Like most people, I find it hard to know whom I should believe. Fortunately, it is possible to test rival claims. For example, disinterested scientists are quite capable of measuring the relative nutritional value of alternative foods. Facts of this kind really matter when it comes to ethical discernment – and should be sought and published, in good faith, even if they might prove to be ‘inconvenient truths’ for one side of the debate or the other.

Although the facts of any particular matter may be of considerable significance in themselves, their broader meaning can only be determined with reference to the context within which they arise.

For example, facts about the nutritional value of McDonalds’ food need to be assessed in light of the overall conduct of the company – the way it treats people, its impact on the natural environment, its approach to advertising to children and the wider market-place and its impact on the community. If the ensuing pattern is of a consistently responsible corporate citizen, then this should inform any final judgement about whether or not McDonalds will be responsible in the conduct of its affairs within the setting of a children’s hospital. If the pattern is of consistently irresponsible conduct, then this would indicate the need for heightened caution – especially given the vulnerability of sick children.

Perhaps the answer to this questions is not ‘all’ or ‘nothing’. Are there are any circumstances under which McDonalds could open a store in a hospital without causing controversy.

For example, what if the company promised to stock and sell only explicitly healthy products at that venue? What if thick shakes, fries, etc. were only available (free of charge) to recovering children whose doctors prescribed for them a treat – an antidote to the modern, hospital version of ‘yellow death’?

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