Feeding fear: Misinformation rooted in myth of immigrants eating pets in America

It was the much-memed moment of the U.S. presidential election campaign that concealed a dark and prejudicial history. At a rally in Springfield, Ohio, back in September, Republican candidates Donald Trump and J.D. Vance first amplified a claim that Haitian immigrants were abducting and eating pets, a rumor rooted in an unverified Facebook post. In October, Trump repeated this disinformation at a Univision town hall, claiming he was "just reporting" widely circulated stories.

Despite denials from local officials, the rumor sparked bomb threats and escalated fears in Springfield, highlighting the actual consequences of politically motivated disinformation. 

But this myth dates back far beyond this presidential campaign cycle. Immigrants in the U.S. have faced false claims they consume bizarre foods as far back as the 1800s. Why do myths like these resurface during election seasons, and how are they used to sway public sentiment?

The myth of immigrant "otherness" and food practices

The myth of immigrants consuming unusual or taboo foods has a long history in the United States, originating with anti-Chinese rhetoric in the 19th century and evolving to include Vietnamese immigrants in the 1980s. Experts at Yale and New York universities told Voice of America that the narrative has been consistently deployed to show immigrant communities as culturally incompatible with American society, using food-related stereotypes to stoke fear and justify exclusionary policies.

In the late 1800s, Chinese immigrants faced growing hostility, primarily fueled by labor competition and xenophobia. Anti-Chinese rhetoric, spread widely by politicians and labor unions, portrayed them as a threat to public health and morality. Misconceptions about Chinese cuisine and culture were used to label them as "unassimilable," with their food viewed as "strange" or even dangerous by many Americans, as explained by Professor Yong Chen at the University of California, Irvine. 

"The Chinese Must Go, But Who Keeps Them?" May, 11, 1878. (Source: The Bancroft Library)

This sentiment was part of a broader racialized framework that drove restrictive legislation, leading to the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882 — the first U.S. law to restrict immigration based on nationality and perceived cultural differences. The Act imposed strict requirements and identification for Chinese laborers, further impeding their integration and acceptance into American society.  

Fast forward to the 1980s, when the arrival of Vietnamese refugees following the Vietnam War reinvigorated similar food-related myths. Vietnamese immigrants were often depicted as eating unconventional foods, thereby frequently caricaturing them as embodying foreign and undesirable customs.

Reports during the early 1980s even spread rumors that Southeast Asian refugees were hunting squirrels, ducks, and dogs in places like San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, an unfounded claim that reinforced biases against their dietary customs.

These myths are not incidental — they serve a political purpose. By invoking visceral reactions to immigrants' dietary practices, these narratives reinforce an "us versus them" mentality. Scholars from the Harvard Kennedy School note how "disinformation is used to reinforce racial boundaries, portraying immigrants not just as foreigners but as cultural threats that need to be controlled or excluded."

Furthermore, food-related myths about immigrants are "not just about food but are used to paint them as inherently un-American, justifying exclusion and harsher policies," according to a study on COVID-19 and immigration by the University of Arizona.

Pandemic myths and anti-Asian bias

This phenomenon was also observed in anti-Asian rhetoric during the COVID-19 pandemic, where food-based myths about "bat soup" and "wet markets" were circulated to justify xenophobic behaviors and even calls for violence against Asian communities.

The myths that falsely associated Asian dietary practices with the origins of the virus quickly gained traction across social media and news outlets, becoming a focal point for misplaced public anger and fear. Influential figures, including Trump, amplified these narratives by repeatedly referring to the virus as the "Chinese virus" or "Kung Flu," creating a climate where Asian Americans were portrayed as carriers of disease.

Screenshot of U.S. President Donald Trump's tweet on March 17, 2020. (Source: X)

This language became a catalyst for stigmatizing narratives that framed the virus as inherently tied to Asian communities, leading to a marked increase in hate speech and attacks on Asian Americans. For example, a study by UC San Francisco found that anti-Asian hashtags surged dramatically on X (formerly Twitter) immediately after Trump's use of the phrase "Chinese virus," with tweets featuring this term more likely to include explicitly racist content and calls for hostility against Asian communities.

According to a search from the University of Michigan's Virulent Hate Project, there was a significant rise in physical assaults, harassment, and verbal abuse targeting Asian Americans in public spaces during the pandemic. This surge was driven not only by individual prejudice but also by a broader social acceptance of discriminatory language that was amplified by public figures. 

Additionally, a report by Stop AAPI Hate indicated that nearly half of the incidents recorded involved derogatory references to COVID-19 and its association with Asian Americans, illustrating the direct impact of racially charged language used by influential leaders on public behavior and attitudes toward Asian communities.

Reviving food myths to incite anti-immigrant sentiment

In recent years, some political leaders have revived stereotypes about immigrants to stir up fear and support for restrictive policies. One tactic involves using food-related misinformation to paint immigrants as incompatible with Western culture, casting them as threats to public health and economic stability. 

This narrative is not limited to the U.S., and similar ideas are taking hold elsewhere. For instance, in Denmark and Norway, the emphasis on "New Nordic Cuisine" has sometimes portrayed imported foods and migrant culinary traditions as harmful to local standards, implying a clash with national values. In Italy, politicians have framed immigrant food practices as a risk to the Italian lifestyle, hinting that migrant agricultural workers might bring unsanitary conditions, reinforcing calls for tougher immigration controls under the guise of public health and safety.         

While this tactic is not new, the amplification of these myths in the digital age has intensified their reach and impact.

A study by three academics at Cornell University examines how online platforms contribute to this phenomenon. The authors found that immigrant cuisines are often framed as exotic or inferior in online reviews, reinforcing cultural divides and marginalizing immigrant communities. They state: "Non-European cuisines are more likely to be described as cheap and dirty, even after controlling for price, and even among the most expensive restaurants."   

Impact on immigrant communities

The spread of disinformation targeting the Haitian community in Springfield, Ohio, has led to a palpable atmosphere of fear and division, according to multiple local reports. Miguelito Jerome, who manages a Haitian-focused radio station, reported that community members are increasingly anxious, with many choosing to avoid public spaces and events due to safety concerns.

The city has also faced a wave of bomb threats directed at schools, city buildings, and businesses, prompting widespread evacuations. Local Haitian community members now express fears for their safety, with some considering relocating to avoid potential harm. Leaders, including faith-based groups, have stepped in, urging unity and condemning the violence spurred by these false narratives.

Springfield's local government has had to increase security and hire additional support for translation and health services to accommodate the city's growing population of Haitian immigrants, who are often the targets of xenophobic rhetoric. Public officials, including Mayor Rob Rue, have debunked the myths but face challenges in stemming the spread of misinformation across social media, where these false claims persist and gain traction.

The disinformation in Springfield parallels a recent false claim in Bangor, Maine, where a viral video on X (archived here) falsely linked the disappearance of 16 cats to an influx of Haitian families. The post quickly amassed millions of views, stoking public concern and resulting in numerous calls to local law enforcement. Sgt. Jason McAmbley of the Bangor Police Department confirmed to Logically Facts that these rumors were unsubstantiated.

Screenshot of the viral post shared on X. (Source: X)

However, like in Springfield, the false narrative caused actual disruption, placing additional strain on police and animal control, who were already investigating the missing pets, with wildlife experts suggesting a possible link to natural predators.

Disinformation's role in fueling anti-immigrant fear

In Springfield, influential political voices and social media amplified an unsubstantiated local rumor into a national controversy. The false claim may have been unique to this presidential election campaign, but it reflects a broader historical pattern, where myths about immigrants consuming "taboo" foods resurface during periods of social tension. The narratives have often portrayed immigrant communities as culturally incompatible with American values, serving to justify exclusionary policies. 

While reviving the age-old tropes, those peddling such disinformation today can leverage social media's reach to deepen societal divides, making immigrant communities susceptible to heightened scrutiny and discrimination.

Follow Logically Facts' coverage and fact-checking of the U.S. Election 2024 here.