Cereal killer: the Kellogg Foundation’s unhealthy agenda

My mom was a health nut before it was cool. As a kid in the late 80s, I remember bringing a hummus bagel to class. My classmates were disgusted. They had never seen that before. I told them it had medicine in it just to get a reaction. Friends who visited my house were shocked that we had no cow’s milk, only soy milk. Some of them never came back.

My healthy roots go back to both sides of my family. My Rastafarian father lived with my mom on a small farm. She would make veggie stews and sesame milk. My parents were crunchy before crunchy was a thing. Later, my mom wanted to return to her Christian roots. A kind Seventh-Day Adventist lady came to the door one day, inviting people to “Smoke No More” meetings. My mom was not a smoker, but she attended anyway, fascinated by a church that preached health.

That chance encounter is what introduced me to the Kellogg Foundation.

Many know the name from breakfast cereal. But I grew up hearing stories about the famous Battle Creek Sanitarium, a Seventh-Day Adventist health spa, and its leader, Dr. John Harvey Kellogg, developing treatments that mixed faith, nutrition, and science. Yes, the Kellogg brothers invented flaked cereal, but back then, it was a health food. And it was more than just a breakfast. It was a crusade against gluttony and poor diets. The mission of the Kelloggs reflected their Adventist beliefs that the body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, and thus that healthy living was a duty.

Today, there are endless competing health fads, such as the Carnivore Diet, Keto, Raw Vegan and Whole 30. Yet most health advocates agree that Americans must cut down on processed food, eat more whole foods, and get healthier.

Adventists have said this for more than a century. They were conducting health retreats in the late 1800s. And this mixture of faith and health is what spurred the creation of corn flakes, and made the Kellogg name world famous.

But times have changed, and the changes might have horrified the Kellogg founders. The W.K. Kellogg Company shifted from wholesome foods to sugar-loaded products such as Frosted Flakes and Pop-Tarts.

As Kellogg’s, the corporation,  has lost its original purpose, so has the W.K. Kellogg Foundation it spawned. What began as a Depression-era charity, whose mission was children’s welfare regardless of race and community strength, is now a massive funder of left-wing activism.

Annually, it sends tens of millions of dollars to movements such as Black Lives Matter and other progressive causes, from climate change to open borders and on to the LGBTQ+ agenda.

Founding of the W.K. Kellogg Company

What started as a religiously inspired mission to improve lives through diet has become one of the biggest purveyors of processed junk food.

The Kellogg story began in Battle Creek, Michigan, which became ground zero for the Seventh-Day Adventist health reform movement.

In the mid-1800s, Adventists were preaching a radical, healthy message, in an unhealthy era:

• Avoid tobacco and alcohol altogether
• Eat less meat and instead eat more whole grains, fruits, and vegetables.
• Live simply. Exercise. Rest.

Unusual to the general public, these healthy ideas were not fringe theories within the denomination, but instead, central to Adventist teaching on caring for the body as a temple of God.

Into this environment stepped Dr. John Harvey Kellogg, one of the most famous Adventist converts. Trained as a physician, Kellogg took over the Adventist-run Battle Creek Sanitarium, which became a world-renowned health spa. Wealthy and elite guests, including presidents and celebrities, came to Battle Creek to be lectured on nutrition, eat plant-based meals, and even to undergo unusual but simple treatments such as hydrotherapy and phototherapy.

Dr. Kellogg’s obsession with health reform eventually led to a simple breakfast discovery. While experimenting with bland foods that could help his patients fight addictions along with digestive problems, he and his brother, Will Keith “W.K.” Kellogg created a flaked wheat cereal. Later, they perfected the recipe with corn, and the famous cornflakes were born. Their goal was not to give kids a sugar rush before school, but to provide patients with an easy-to-digest, plant-based alternative to the heavier breakfasts of their day.

But while Dr. Kellogg was singularly focused on his health mission, the younger W.K., as he liked to be called, saw the commercial potential. In 1906, W.K. founded the Kellogg Company, separating it from his brother’s sanitarium work. A marketing genius who understood the nation’s appetite for convenience, W.K. turned cornflakes into a booming business. By the early 20th century, the American breakfast was transformed, and Kellogg became king of cereal.

The religious roots of Kellogg cereals were never a secret. Although he was more business-minded than his older brother, both brothers grew up in a devout Adventist household. The denomination’s push for vegetarianism, temperance, and health reform shaped W.K.’s thinking. For him, cornflakes were not just food. They were a tool to reshape American habits.

Fast-forward to today, and the contrast could not be more striking. The same company that once grew out of health principles now markets foods to children that are little better than candy. Kellogg’s recently agreed to stop labeling its sugary cereals as “healthy” after a lawsuit challenged the false advertising. What started as a religiously inspired mission to improve lives through diet has become one of the biggest purveyors of processed junk food.

This is the legacy at the root of the W.K. Kellogg Foundation. A man who believed diet reform could uplift humanity built a company that revolutionized American eating. The tragedy is not that his vision failed. On the contrary, it succeeded beyond imagination.

The tragedy is how far it has fallen from its original mission.

Creation of the Kellogg Foundation

The original purpose of the foundation was focused on “the health, education, and welfare of mankind, but principally of children or youth, directly or indirectly, without regard to sex, race, creed, or nationality.” 

In 1913, W.K.’s infant grandson fell out of a second-story window and was left disabled from the accident. W.K. was shocked to discover that, despite his massive wealth, he could not find adequate health care in Michigan for the child. The incident caused him to reflect on the state of healthcare in the region and how hard it must be for those without the means he possessed.

Thus, out of tragedy, a purpose was formed. The accident “caused me to wonder what difficulties were in the paths of needy parents who seek help for their children when catastrophe strikes, and I resolved to lend what aid I could to such children,” Kellogg wrote.

The original purpose of the foundation was focused on “the health, education, and welfare of mankind, but principally of children or youth, directly or indirectly, without regard to sex, race, creed, or nationality.” No radical leftwing politics, or politics at all. According to historian Martin Morse Wooster, Kellogg “never used his foundation to promote political ideas.”

At the beginning, W.K. would simply fund charitable activities directly, founding the Fellowship Corporation in 1923 to facilitate his gifts. The Kellogg Foundation came later in 1930, as a way to further organize the efforts.

But even then, Kellogg did not endow the foundation at first. Instead, he funded it directly from his checkbook until it proved effective. Over time, he would donate $66 million to the foundation, an enormous sum for the time–equivalent to more than $1 billion today.

Almost immediately after opening, the Kellogg Foundation launched the Michigan Community Health Project, focused on southern Michigan. The initiative would go on to construct hospitals in rural regions, support the establishment of public health departments, and supply nurses and doctors to remote communities.

Through the W.K. Kellogg Foundation, W.K. established the Ann J. Kellogg School, named after his mother, which was among the first elementary schools to integrate children with disabilities and those without in a shared learning environment. He also used the foundation to donate his Arabian horse farm to what would later become the California State Polytechnic University, Pomona.

While most of Kellogg’s philanthropy was channeled through his foundation, he personally funded select initiatives, such as summer camps for low-income families, the creation of the Kellogg Bird Sanctuary, and the establishment of an experimental demonstration farm at Michigan State University.

The structure of the Foundation was unusual for the time. W.K. established it with professional staff and a long-term financial foundation. Unlike many charities that rose and fell with a single donor’s interest, the Kellogg Foundation was designed to last for generations. And it worked. The W.K. Kellogg Foundation grew into one of the largest philanthropies in the world.

The shift to funding radicalism

It’s hard to imagine the capitalist and deeply religious W.K. would approve of the modern Kellogg Foundation that bears his name.

The Kellogg Foundation did not transform its mission overnight. For decades after its creation in 1930, the focus remained close to W.K. Kellogg’s original vision. The goals were practical and rooted in service: children’s health, nutrition and community support.

The change came gradually. W.K.’s personal influence was gone by the time of his death in 1951. In the decades that followed, trustees and executives without ties to the Adventist Church or even to Kellogg’s Midwestern values began steering the ship.

By the 1970s, American philanthropy was shifting. Large foundations were no longer satisfied with funding hospitals and food programs. A new class of employees began to push for social change with several universities and nonprofits embracing the rise of left-wing activism; foundations soon followed. Foundation executives who might once have studied agriculture and healthcare began studying sociology and activism, and they brought that ideology into the boardroom.

The timeline tells a sad story of decline in values and purpose. In the 1930s and 1940s, the Kellogg Foundation built hospitals and provided food for children. By the 1970s, it was dabbling in education reform with a progressive slant. By the 1990s, it was pouring millions into identity politics, minority-only initiatives, and programs aimed at reshaping America’s culture rather than strengthening families. Today, the Kellogg Foundation is best known not for its work in nutrition or children’s health, but for bankrolling left-wing causes.

Kellogg “rejected socialism,” according to Wooster, but did not specify those preferences in the formation of his foundation, at least not clearly enough to stop it from what it has become today. It’s hard to imagine the capitalist and deeply religious W.K. would approve of the modern Kellogg Foundation that bears his name.

A few examples illustrate how far it has fallen.

Originally, the organization was opposed to racial preferences, preferring a color-blind approach. Today, it has adopted the subtle language of anti-white racism and pro-minority preferences. According to the foundation website, “racial equity and racial healing” is one of the three commitments “embedded within all we do.”

Today we know those terms to be simply liberal-speak for racial preferences for all groups except whites. To punctuate the point, in 2020 the Kellogg Foundation gave $91 million to the Black Lives Matter movement.

The Kellogg Foundation has an $8.7 billion endowment and is one of America’s largest foundations. In 2021 alone, it handed out $483 million in grants. According to InfluenceWatch, Kellogg has bankrolled groups such as the Southern Poverty Law Center and UnidosUS. These organizations thrive on identity politics and push divisive narratives under the banner of “equity.”

In 2021, Kellogg funded Race Forward, one of the most aggressive promoters of critical race theory in both schools and corporations. Race Forward operates the Government Alliance on Race and Equity (GARE), a network that pressures cities and counties to embed racial equity into every policy decision, including housing and law enforcement. It also produces curricula and training sessions for K–12 schools, where teachers are instructed to center classroom lessons on “systemic racism” and “white privilege.”

Corporations hire Race Forward consultants to run mandatory “equity audits” and DEI workshops that often divide employees into groups by race. According to the Foundation’s filings, Kellogg gave Race Forward roughly $14.9 million between 2019 and 2022. In short, Kellogg’s money is underwriting the injection of critical race theory into classrooms, local governments, and workplaces across America.

Racial issues are not the only progressive cause the Kellogg Foundation funds. It also gave millions to Faith in Action, a left-wing religious organizing group that lobbies for open borders and higher welfare spending.

Kellogg money also flows into journalism. InfluenceWatch notes that the Foundation is a top funder of so-called “racial equity reporting” and has bankrolled media outlets such as NPR to the tune of millions. That means your morning radio host on “public” radio might be shaped by Kellogg Foundation dollars steering coverage toward race and activism instead of balanced news.

Then there is today’s activism darling, the LGBTQ+ movement. The Kellogg Foundation has funded an engagement scholarship grant, which in turn funds Project ACT, a partnership between Michigan State University and MPact Global Action for Gay Men’s Health and Rights. The goal of Project ACT is to dismantle barriers to HIV care for gay men and “transgender women.”

Recalling the original mission: what does this have to do with children’s health?

The Kellogg Foundation website speaks of “navigating the costs of climate change,” whatever that means. They claim these  “investments help support” so-called clean energy and “environmental justice.”

In 2021, Kellogg took its racial agenda global with the launch of Racial Equity 2030, a $90 million initiative designed to fund “bold solutions” over the next decade. From more than 1,400 applications worldwide, five groups were chosen to split $80 million in long-term grants. The winners include ActionAid International to reshape Brazil’s education system around racial equity, Communities United in Chicago to push a “healing through justice” model for youth, the Indian Law Resource Center to secure Indigenous land rights in Mexico and Central and South America, Partners in Development Foundation in Hawaii to dismantle youth incarceration, and Namati to fight “environmental racism” in Kenya, Sierra Leone, and the United States. Instead of directing funds to hospitals, schools, or food security, the Foundation has committed tens of millions to racial and political activism on three continents.

Losing the plot

The money Kellogg wanted invested in children and families now pays the salary of a millionaire CEO who uses his name to advance divisive policies of racial preference.

This is likely not what W.K. Kellogg had in mind when he invested his cereal fortune into a foundation to help and feed children, build hospitals, and strengthen communities. Today, Kellogg dumps tens of millions of dollars per year into groups that divide the country by race, undermine law enforcement, and indoctrinate children with activist propaganda.

The Kellogg Foundation has thoroughly scrubbed any trace of its Christian and Adventist roots, and replaced that legacy with a New Age type of spirituality. On its Every Child Thrives site, the Foundation published a chant for its “sacred keepers of life.” It reads: “We call upon the keepers of the sacred, we call upon the keepers of the bundles, we call upon the keepers of the fire. We call upon Mother Earth, we call upon Father Sky.”

A foundation created by a man whose faith preached the body as the temple of the Holy Spirit has traded that for invocations to “Mother Earth” and “Father Sky.”

The Foundation’s leadership also reflects the radical shift. La June Montgomery Tabron has been president and CEO of the Kellogg Foundation since 2013. She is the first woman and the first black leader in the Foundation’s history. According to the Foundation’s 2024 IRS Form 990, Tabron’s compensation in the most recent filing was $900,328 in base pay plus $213,972 in other compensation, bringing her total package to more than $1 million per year. Tabron has also been outspoken in her support for affirmative action, calling the Supreme Court’s 2023 ruling against race-based admissions “a setback” and urging foundations and universities to double down on “racial equity” efforts.

The money Kellogg wanted invested in children and families now pays the salary of a millionaire CEO who uses his name to advance divisive policies of racial preference.

But Kellogg still supports maternal and child health, early childhood education, and nutrition programs. Not everything it does today is lefty activism.

For example, Kellogg committed $90 million over ten years to improve birth outcomes for Black and Native American infants, aiming to cut disparities in infant mortality. It has also supported programs that expand access to prenatal care in underserved communities. In food deserts, Kellogg has funded farmers’ markets, supported small grocers, and provided grants for healthy school meal programs. They continue to give grants to programs that improve access to nutritious foods and encourage physical activity in low-income areas. There are also long-standing investments in early childhood education and vocational training, programs designed to equip young people with the skills they need to enter the workforce.

Stripped of political framing, these are the kinds of practical, family-centered investments that align with W.K. Kellogg’s original vision, and they are areas conservatives can agree are worth supporting. But even these benefits are frequently framed in racial terms. White children facing the same barriers are left out of the conversation, as if poverty and need only matter when they fit neatly into the Foundation’s equity agenda.

The Kellogg Foundation’s original charter states that the Foundation’s purposes “shall be confined to receiving funds for the health, education, and welfare of mankind, but principally of children or youth, directly or indirectly, without regard to sex, race, creed, or nationality.” W.K. Kellogg’s vision was service to all children without discrimination. Now compare that to the Foundation’s current funding focus, which explicitly centers on race. Its education programs claim to advance “equity” by targeting barriers that “disproportionately affect children of color” and emphasize boosting the pipeline of “educators and leaders of color.”

In practice, the Kellogg Foundation’s modern mission is no longer race-neutral at all. It is race-dependent. The charter said “without regard to race.” The Foundation now makes race the filter through which the dollars flow. It is a direct contradiction of W.K. Kellogg’s explicit instruction and a betrayal of his founding vision.

A major inspiration for W.K. Kellogg’s philanthropic foundation was his disabled, white grandson. Where would the needs of that child rank within the Kellogg Foundation’s modern, racially obsessed agenda? Sadly, the Kellogg Foundation has not only lost its way, it has lost the very heart of what W.K. Kellogg stood for.

Source: https://capitalresearch.org/article/cereal-killer-the-kellogg-foundations-unhealthy-agenda/