The legacy of colonialism has profoundly shaped global food systems, contributing to vulnerabilities that persist in the spread of foodborne diseases. Historical practices, including land appropriation and the imposition of export-oriented agriculture, disrupted Indigenous food sovereignty, often prioritizing cash crops over diverse, nutrient-rich staples. This shift left communities dependent on imported foods and monocultures, increasing exposure to contamination risks and reducing resilience to food safety challenges.
In colonial Kenya, British land ordinances displaced the Agikuyu people, forcing reliance on maize, a crop vulnerable to drought and pests. Traditional crops like sorghum and millet, which were better adapted to local climates and stored safely, were sidelined. The resulting food insecurity and poor storage conditions exacerbated spoilage and contamination, heightening risks of foodborne illnesses. Similarly, in Haiti, trade liberalization policies in the 1990s flooded markets with cheap imported rice, undermining local farmers who once cultivated climate-resilient crops. Today, over 90% of Haiti’s rice is imported, with limited oversight in supply chains, raising concerns about food safety amid widespread malnutrition.
Colonial-era infrastructure neglect also left enduring gaps in food safety systems. Post-independence, structural adjustment programs (SAPs) imposed by international financial institutions further weakened public health budgets, reducing capacity to monitor food quality or respond to outbreaks. The World Health Organization (WHO) estimates that 600 million people fall ill annually from contaminated food, with 420,000 deaths, disproportionately affecting low- and middle-income countries (LMICs) where colonial legacies linger.
Trade policies rooted in colonial exploitation continue to influence food safety dynamics. For instance, 19th-century international sanitary conventions prioritized protecting European trade interests over equitable health measures, often scapegoating marginalized populations as disease vectors. This pattern echoes in modern crises, such as the COVID-19 pandemic, where xenophobic rhetoric overshadowed systemic failures in global food safety governance.
Efforts to decolonize food systems emphasize reviving Indigenous practices and empowering local communities. Initiatives like Rwanda’s University of Global Health Equity train African leaders to address regional health challenges, integrating traditional knowledge with modern science. Similarly, Uganda’s participatory urbanism models prioritize local voices in policymaking, fostering context-specific solutions to food safety.
However, barriers persist. Global health institutions remain dominated by high-income countries, perpetuating inequities in resource allocation and research priorities. The WHO’s “One Health” approach advocates multisectoral collaboration, yet LMICs often lack the infrastructure to implement such frameworks effectively.
Addressing these challenges requires acknowledging colonialism’s role in shaping current vulnerabilities. From disrupted agricultural practices to uneven health investments, historical injustices continue to influence foodborne disease burdens. Sustainable solutions demand centering local knowledge, equitable resource distribution, and dismantling systemic biases embedded in global food policies.
Commenting on this article, the nation’s leading food poisoning lawyer said, “Unfortunately, events that happened centuries ago could still be making people sick today. With effort and time, countries that are attempting to revive their indigenous practices may start to improve their food safety systems.”
