I got my first serious, out-for-a-month running injury this year. I blame an eight-mile run in brand-new Hokas, as does my PT. I’m constantly shown ads about Hokas and feel personally insulted.
In an effort to not be bitter -- a challenge, I admit! -- I started thinking about nutrition. Specifically, I started thinking about protein: the building block of muscle and the supplement industry’s darling. The market for protein-rich products -- meaning protein bars, powders and drinks -- is expected to grow at a CAGR of 8% through 2027. Driven by the desire to feel like I could tangibly improve the speed at which my injury was (is) healing, I joined in the sales mania. My choice? Chocolatey bone broth protein powder.
Covid-19 is supercharging the supplements industry, especially for immunity-focused products. Vitamin C, elderberry and other purported immune-boosters have seen double digit growth since March. Whether or not these products do anything to improve one’s immune response is besides the point: they give consumers a security blanket in what is literally a life or death situation. Needless to say, inflammation in your tibialis posterior tendon due to running eight miles in a pair of over-hyped running shoes is not life or death. Most reasons why people buy protein supplements are similarly trivial.
So, why do we spend upwards of $30 on a plastic tub of powder that may not impact our health and certainly isn’t nutritionally necessary? Well -- why not? Protein is portrayed as a flawless macronutrient. Even when discussing heart-unhealthy beef and estrogen-packed tofu and commodity chicken, the reasons these foods are demonised is never because of protein. Instead, it’s the fat, the soy, the hormones. Protein justifies consumption. A burger? At least it has protein. Eggs benedict? There’s protein in there. Costco rotisserie chicken? Affordable, family-friendly protein.
There’s been plenty written on how protein assumed this reputation: it’s coded masculine (tiered paywall), it signals wealth, it repairs muscles, it curbs hunger. But despite the good attributes protein has accrued, these traits don’t explain why we choose to purchase it in powdered form. If society allows us to justify real foods by saying that they’re high in protein, then why is there an industry built on distilling and powdering it so we can drink it?
Most articles that tackle this question trace protein desire to fitness, arguing that extra protein helps muscles repair faster and thus maximises training. On one level, that is the reasoning behind why I purchased protein powder. I want to speed up the repair of my tibialis posterior muscle and get back to running so I can maximise my training. But I’m not so sure the statistics play out. If the US protein supplement industry was worth $16.7bn in 2019, while just over half of Americans met the CDC’s weekly aerobic activity guidelines in 2018 (half that if you include strength training), then who are the people driving protein powder sales? The desire to maximise one’s fitness routine may play into the protein powder boom, but it’s not the sole driver.
Time is another excuse for consuming protein powder, and one that widens the customer base. A protein shake can sub in for an on-the-go breakfast, or mid-afternoon pick-me-up. In the before times, on-the-go was a booming category and major source of innovation (as I’ve written elsewhere on this blog). This is an especially relevant market for consumers who believe in protein’s hunger-curbing power and so want more of it in their diet,
This leads us to another group of people who are consuming elevated levels of protein: those who follow stringent diets, like Keto and Paleo. Among this restrictive group, protein powder offers an ingredient hack to transform highly-palatable foods into diet-approved dupes. From protein powder pancakes to protein muffins and cakes, these alternatives once again lean on protein to justify the consumption of a food frequently maligned by society. In this sense, protein powder becomes a comfort blanket to ensure that one can match one’s diet, one’s bodily hunger and one’s intellectual desires to society. Protein powder is both a time hack and a mind hack.
It’s this aspect of mind hack that interests me most, and I think gets most looked over in articles discussing protein powder. Sure, I can read about how to pick the best one for my diet, or why I might actually not need one in the first place, but these articles only dance around that link between what we put in our bodies and how we perceive ourselves. For the gym-goer looking to build muscle, the harried college student needing a quick meal fix or the injured runner going mad hoping to heal, protein powder is a mental crutch. We lean on it for hope: the hope that it works, the hope that we’re healthy and the hope of vitality.
I don’t believe this is a bad thing. In fact, I believe more brands should be overt about the power of hope when marketing their products, especially so-called functional foods, of which I consider protein powder a part. When we buy and consume protein powder, we are buying and consuming ideas just as much as we are nutrients or calories. We’re buying the belief that it will help us reach our goals. We’re purchasing the placebo effect. The thing is, the placebo effect has been shown to work in terms of pain reduction, especially when people actively choose their own placebo. If someone told me to take a specific brand of protein powder, it would have less of an impact if I went out, researched and chose the brand that I thought was right for me. The placebo effect requires active engagement from consumers -- the exact kind of engagement that brands want.
So, yes, protein powder has become a huge market because of its modern, gold-star nutritional reputation, but it is significantly helped along by the fact that there are plenty of people who are willing to believe that protein will help them reach specific health objectives. For these people, protein powder offers a shortcut to hope: it’s a talisman of health, the placebo effect. I believe that I am doing something good when I consume it, which makes me feel good, which is good.
FUN FACT: Collagen is another interesting market sector that operates on a lot of the same hope/placebo effects principles as protein, if not more so. It’s not a complete protein, it’s intended to boost skin elasticity and joint health, but no one knows if it really works. And yet, collagen sales are booming. I’ve tried a fair bit of collagen at trade shows, and I’ve got to say that it’s an acquired taste (a bit salty). That’s not stopping companies from spooning into lattes, stuffing it into bars and dissolving it into water. Do you believe it works?