By Michael J. Critelli | MakeUsWell Newsletter, 

Over the past two years, the meteoric rise of GLP-1 drugs like Ozempic, Wegovy, and Mounjaro has disrupted not only healthcare but also the food industry’s quiet science of seduction. These medications suppress appetite, slow digestion, and blunt the dopamine rewards associated with overeating. For millions of users, they represent liberation from a lifelong biochemical trap—one that food scientists have spent decades perfecting.  

Within the last week, their importance in population health has been underscored by an attempt by the Trump Administration to negotiate a price of $149 a month, far below their current pricing to large commercial insurance plans and employers.

But as with any innovation that changes human behavior, there is a counter-move underway. In the same way marketers learn to outwit ad blockers and hackers evolve to bypass new security systems, food manufacturers are experimenting with reformulations to preserve the allure of their most profitable products. This is not a morality play with heroes and villains. It is a systems-level conflict between two forms of applied science: one medical, one culinary; one designed to quiet appetite, the other to awaken it.

The Power of the “Bliss Point”

Since the 1980s, food scientists and sensory researchers have sought the “bliss point”—the precise combination of sugar, salt, and fat that maximizes pleasure without triggering satiety. Pioneers like Howard Moskowitz, whose work optimized products from soda to spaghetti sauce, understood that our brains evolved to crave energy-dense foods that were once scarce. Industrial food production, global supply chains, and precision chemistry turned that evolutionary advantage into a liability.

The result: a marketplace filled with ultra-processed foods engineered for shelf stability, emotional comfort, and predictable consumption. These products do not merely satisfy hunger; they stimulate craving, lighting up reward pathways similar to those activated by addictive drugs. Even when consumers know they’re being manipulated, the sensory pull is almost irresistible.

Enter the Pharmacological Counteroffensive

GLP-1 receptor agonists approach the problem from the other end of the feedback loop. Instead of changing the food environment, they change the eater. These drugs amplify the body’s natural satiety signals and mute the dopamine surge that follows calorie intake. Patients on GLP-1 medications report that the same foods no longer taste as compelling or emotionally rewarding. Portions shrink. Late-night cravings fade. The grip of hyper-palatable foods loosens.

Early research suggests that the biggest losers in this pharmaceutical revolution may be fast-food chains, soda makers, and snack producers whose business models depend on repeat impulse purchases. Analysts estimate that a significant portion of U.S. caloric intake could shift toward simpler, less-processed fare if GLP-1 use becomes widespread.

Offense Meets Defense

Yet the food industry is not sitting still. Internal R&D teams are exploring ways to re-engage consumers whose appetites have been dampened by these medications. That could mean developing new flavor profiles that rely less on caloric density and more on sensory complexity—texture, temperature contrast, umami depth, or aromatics. It could also mean subtle shifts in packaging, marketing, and portioning designed to restore “food excitement” even when physiological hunger is reduced.

We are witnessing, in real time, an offense vs. defense contest between two immense ecosystems of innovation. The healthcare sector, armed with biopharmaceutical breakthroughs, aims to recalibrate human metabolism and restore balance to an obesogenic society. The food sector, driven by consumer desire and shareholder expectations, seeks to preserve emotional engagement and pleasure. Both claim to serve human wellbeing; both depend on recurring consumption—of prescriptions or products—to sustain themselves.

The Collateral Challenges

Neither side fully addresses the root problem: our fragmented food-health system. GLP-1 drugs can curb appetite, but they cannot teach mindful eating or repair the social dimensions of food. They may even reduce nutrient diversity if users eat too little or avoid entire food groups. Meanwhile, food companies can innovate toward “better-for-you” processed foods, but as long as success is measured in volume and frequency of consumption, incentives will tilt toward intensifying cravings rather than moderating them.

The real frontier lies in redesigning both systems simultaneously—aligning agricultural policy, medical practice, and food innovation around sustainable nourishment rather than reactive correction. That means measuring success not by pounds lost or servings sold, but by the stability of energy, mood, and long-term health outcomes across populations.

A Call for Systems Thinking

The emerging nutritional arms race reveals a deeper truth: our most intractable public-health crises are feedback problems. When medical science and food science act in isolation, they create reinforcing loops—pharmaceutical fixes that invite new dietary excesses, and dietary excesses that demand stronger pharmaceutical fixes. Breaking that cycle requires a systems view that integrates biology, psychology, economics, and ethics.

Food scientists should not be vilified; many are earnestly working to enhance nutrition, reduce additives, and improve flavor without harm. But they operate within a system that rewards short-term consumption gains. Likewise, physicians prescribing GLP-1 drugs must recognize that chemical appetite control, while transformative, is not a substitute for rebuilding healthier food environments and social habits.  

Toward a Healthier Equilibrium

The future of eating—and of health itself—depends on whether we can move from competition to collaboration between these scientific domains. Imagine if the data from GLP-1 users helped food companies redesign products that align with new, lower-appetite norms. Imagine if insurers, physicians, and food retailers co-invested in taste education and culinary literacy.  

In such a world, we would no longer pit one science against another. We would harness both to serve a higher aim: helping people rediscover the simple joy of nourishment without the biochemical tug-of-war.   The true “bliss point” would not be a formula in a lab, but the equilibrium between pleasure, health, and self-control. 

We need to look at GLP-1 usage as a way of buying time to build new healthy living habits that enable us to maintain a healthy weight without being dependent on pharmaceutical solutions.