Ethiopia.
Grew up in the sixties. Starving children in [country] was rarely used. My dad enforced a “Your mom went to the trouble to cook it, you’re gonna show appreciation by eating it” rule. Our table custom was to put all the food in serving dishes, and everyone spoon out their own amount. It was law* that we were to select some of every dish, and if the amount was disrespectfully small, he would dish out substantially more.
*Everyone was allowed to select one particular food they could skip when it appeared, but only one. Mine was butterbeans. I still hate those.
It didn’t. What it was supposed to do was to make you realize how lucky, how very lucky you were, to live in a land where you wanted for nothing.
Nobody was fed in Europe because you didn’t clean your plate. You were supposed to feel lucky because you got healthy and nutritious Brussels sprouts, carrots, and broccoli, while European kids got shoe leather. Except they didn’t get shoe leather, and you got yucky-tasting Brussels sprouts, carrots, and broccoli. Or stewed tomatoes. I don’t know how many times my Mom told my sister and I that we were “lucky, lucky children,” because we didn’t know starvation like they had in Biafra. So we gagged down the awful vegetables, because we were lucky, lucky children who weren’t unlucky, like Biafran children.
My Mom was such a lousy cook that I bet that even Biafran children would refuse Brussels sprouts the way my Mom cooked them. And what the hell are “stewed tomatoes” anyway?
My parents never used this tactic. We were expected to finish our dinner, and there was no discussion. We weren’t forced to eat things we didn’t like (which is great, because asparagus stunk to high heaven!!!) but we had to finish at least a serving of meat and veg and drink a glass of milk.
Of course, if you didn’t finish your meal, you didn’t get dessert…
"Eat your dinner. You know there are starving kids in Europe?
“I wish I was starving in Europe. At least they know how to cook there.”
I never got that from my folks, but my mom was from Germany and knew how to cook.
1970s — China, but usually phrased as “As your grandpa would tell us when we were kids…” (so, circa 1950).
By the 1980s, when I was a teen, Ethiopia was more common.
I once dated a girl named for that episode. Seriously.
My parents wouldn’t use this tactic, and I was conditioned to eat everything and anything. Luckily, I think I’m naturally not a picky eater.
But the country would have been Ethiopia had they been so inclined. It was the 80s, and that was constantly in the news and the source of very many jokes and riddles in poor taste. (And, also, being a kid of the 80s and a Weird Al listener at the time, Japan.)
Awww…
Think of all those people in Thread Games.
I think mine was Africa. Maybe China. I wasn’t really listening. I did have to finish everything.
I read this as “get someone out of heck” which sort of works too.
Yeah, Biafra. Never knew exactly where that was!
Allan Sherman on children starving in Europe Hail To Thee, Fat Person by Allan Sherman - YouTube
“Ladies and gentlemen, I got fat as a public service when I was a child,
My mother said to me,
“Clean the plate, because children are starving in Europe”
And I might point out that that was years before the Marshall Plan was ever heard of”
Another “vote” for Biafra. Surprised to see it so wide-spread.
Africa for me. The usual speech from my dad was “There are people starving in Africa who could make a whole meal out of what you’re leaving on your plate.” My inclination was to ask if there was some way we could send my food to them, but I knew better than to actually say it.
Late 60s -70s: China or we’d hear my mom tell the story of when my grandpa (her dad) was stationed in France during WWII. The hungry kids would stand around as the GI’s ate and wait for something to be offered up.
My dad came to within days of starving to death in WWII Holland. There was no question whatsoever in our house: you cleaned your plate and food was never discarded. We were upper middle class but many of my take-to-school lunches featured stale bread. Other kids with parents with other histories were coerced with “little children in Africa” NOS.
Biafra. Late 1960s.
My mother was ( at the time ) a horrible cook, and bad food looks, smells, and tastes even worse when you’re 6 or 7 years old.
When strong-arming me to eat her revolting food didn’t work, she always trotted out the “If a boy over there saw this food, he’d be SO happy!”.
My parents never used this tactic, but it would have been Ethiopia or Africa in general based on the news of 70’s/80’s when I was growing up.
Asia. I remember my father punctuated the point one time by grabbing a magazine and showing me an ad for UNICEF or CARE or some organization like those, with a picture of an Asian baby.
My mother just said “Eat it or wear it.” No other coercion was needed.