Yuengling's Trump endorsement shows the perils of mixing politics with food and drink
Last week, when Richard Yuengling Jr. endorsed Donald J. Trump for president, he rattled a few racks of beer mugs in taverns across America.
Last week, when Richard Yuengling Jr. endorsed Donald J. Trump for president, he rattled a few racks of beer mugs in taverns across America.
Beer brands engender loyalty, and when folks heard that the owner of the Pottsville-based brewery - the nation's oldest - waded so boldly into the presidential race, it kicked off a commotion.
"When your beer goes against or for something you believe in, you have a strong reaction," noted Bruce Hardy, professor of strategic communication at Temple University.
"That's why you don't see many CEOs of family corporations coming out for a candidate."
And, sure enough, while lots of people toasted Yuengling's choice, a bunch of others did a lager spit-take, then took to social media to organize a boycott that was still gaining momentum on Monday.
What we drink and eat is personal. Politicians know that, which is why ingesting food on the campaign trail is such a big deal, and so fraught with peril.
Consider:
Running for president in 2004, then-Sen. John Kerry (D., Mass.) ordered Swiss cheese (!) on his cheesesteak and was ridiculed for it.
While he was still in the 2016 campaign as a Republican candidate for president, Gov. John Kasich of Ohio ate pizza with a knife and fork, and the world guffawed.
Earlier this year, Trump ate a taco bowl at Trump Tower, believing he was showing solidarity with Latinos, but only earning their enmity for ingesting what's considered inauthentic food.
People like to see their candidates enjoying food they themselves enjoy.
Scientists tell us that the pleasure centers of monkeys' brains light up when the animals see other monkeys eating. In fact, the monkey brains respond as though the observing simians are digging the food as much as the imbibing simians.
It's similar to a parent cooking stew for dinner, then feeling warm and fuzzy watching the family slurp it up.
Conversely, we all have such strong differences of opinion on what constitutes good food that preferences can be alienating, said Neri de Kramer, an expert on food and an adjunct professor of anthropology at the University of Delaware.
"I know couples who have ended their relationships over food incompatibility," de Kramer said.
When politicians send "food messages" by eating what constituents eat, they are signaling, "I am one of you," she said.
That's why it was so humiliating when President Gerald Ford tried to eat tamales in Texas in 1976 without shucking them.
And why it was so shamefully awful when President George H.W. Bush vomited at a state dinner in Japan in 1992, said food anthropologist Katherine Moore of the University of Pennsylvania.
"It's seen as an elemental rejection of the entire culture when you throw up at their table," she said.
What politicians seem to understand, at least subconsciously, is that one person can't enter into a real relationship with another without being willing to be served and eat, Moore said.
"The big question is, when the food comes, will you put it in your mouth?"
If you won't eat a person's food, the thinking goes, why would that person believe you'll execute a policy or make a decision on their behalf?
Food is a quick and easy tool for anybody to signal things about themselves, including socio-economic status, regional affinities, and ethnic affinities, de Kramer said.
Michelle Obama has been criticized for embracing healthy food, and inspired former presidential candidate Sen. Ted Cruz (R., Texas) to promise "French fries back in the school lunchroom when [my wife] Heidi becomes First Lady."
It's no coincidence that most presidential campaigns get rolling in diners in New Hampshire - quite often Lindy's in Keene, N.H., famous for its clam chowder and its logo, "Where politicians meet real people."
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