In the realm of food safety, where every decision can be a matter of life and death, the questions that arise are not just technical but deeply philosophical. As I prepare for my engagements with Boar's Head executives and Frank's class, I find myself reflecting on the myriad challenges that persist in our industry, even after three decades of relentless advocacy. The questions I hear are not merely inquiries but reflections of the complex interplay between corporate responsibility, consumer trust, and the ever-present specter of foodborne illness.
One question that stands out is the age-old debate over operational changes. If I could wave a magic wand and mandate one change, it would be the implementation of rigorous product testing and the subsequent decision to hold back any potentially contaminated products. The idea is simple yet profound: hold back the product, not because it's technically flawed, but because the decision to do so is a moral one. After all, in the digital age, where whole genome sequencing can connect a sick child in Indiana to a specific lot in a plant, there's no hiding from the consequences of your actions.
Transparency, too, is a double-edged sword. While it may not directly reduce the financial impact of a recall, it does reduce the emotional toll on victims and their families. The companies that take responsibility, that call victims, pay medical bills, and recall products quickly, are the ones that settle quietly and for a fraction of the cost of those that try to cover up. The cover-up is the real cost, the hidden expense that eats away at the trust of consumers and the integrity of the industry.
Third-party audits, another area of expenditure, are a prime example of where we might be overspending. Audits, often paid for, can become a shield rather than a tool for safety. The plants that earn a "superior" rating days before they kill people are the ones that should be held accountable. Instead, we should be investing in unannounced testing and fixing the problems we find. After all, a clean audit is only as good as the actions that follow.
The question of litigation is a fascinating one. In theory, we could litigate ourselves out of business, but in practice, the pathogens are known, the interventions are known, and the goal is to build a safer food system. The Jack in the Box kids from '93 are now middle-aged, and I'm still here, fighting the good fight. The goal keeps me honest, even if I never reach it.
When evaluating a case, the severity of the injury and prior conduct are both crucial factors. While severity and causation get me in the door, it's the prior knowledge and conduct of the company that decides whether I take a quiet settlement or go to war. A first-time, freak contamination from a company that did everything right? I'll be reasonable. But a company that knew, that had the prior recall, that ignored the results? That's where punitives live, and that's the case I'll try to win.
The allocation of resources is another critical issue. If we had one additional appropriation to direct between FDA, FSIS, and CDC, where would the marginal dollar save the most lives? Surveillance and inspection, of course. The FDA inspects most facilities on a timeline measured in years, and you can't act on an outbreak you can't see. The boring federal lab work that matches a strain in Oregon to a strain in Florida is what allows us to catch multistate outbreaks. Cut it, and outbreaks don't stop happening; they just stop getting detected, which is politically convenient and morally indefensible.
The issue of Salmonella in poultry is another area of concern. We petitioned for it to be designated as an adulterant, but FSIS denied it and then withdrew the framework. The cleanest route is for FSIS to declare outbreak-associated, high-load Salmonella scenarios as adulterants, just as we did with Big Six non-O157 STECs in beef in 2012. If the agency won't, Congress can do it directly. The objection is always 'Salmonella is naturally occurring,' but so was E. coli O157 in beef until we decided dead children outweighed the inconvenience.
The ByHeart outbreak highlighted the gaps in adverse-event reporting. The system is voluntary, slow, and structurally blind. By the time a signal reaches FDA, infants are already in the ICU. The narrow fix is mandatory, time-bound reporting of serious adverse events with real teeth, plus FDA authority to act on early signals instead of waiting for the bodies to line up. These are babies. The reporting system is supposed to be their voice, and right now, it's a whisper.
Raw milk is another contentious issue. Labeling alone isn't enough. We need strong, plain-language warnings as a floor. The freedom argument collapses the moment you remember who ends up on dialysis with hemolytic uremic syndrome: the toddlers. Your freedom to take a risk ends where your kid's kidneys begin. 'My body, my choice' is a fine slogan until you're pouring it into a sippy cup.
Finally, the issue of agencies withholding outbreak records under the deliberative-process exemption is a matter of public interest. Genuine pre-decisional deliberation is legitimately protectable, but the facts aren't deliberative. The public has a right to know who got sick, what the agency knew and when, the test results, the inspection findings, and the science. Agencies blur the line between facts and opinions precisely because the facts are the part that makes them look bad.
Exemption 4, which allows companies to withhold plant records under the guise of 'confidential commercial information,' is another area of concern. There's a world of difference between a genuine trade secret and the test results, inspection findings, and supplier records of a plant that just poisoned a bunch of people. The first deserves protection, but the second is being dressed up as proprietary to keep the public from learning who got sick and why. When a company's product lands children in the hospital, 'that's confidential business information' is not an answer the families can live with. The commercial-secrecy claim should end where the public-health record begins.
In the end, the questions we ask are not just about food safety but about the very fabric of our society. They are questions of trust, responsibility, and the balance between individual freedom and collective well-being. As I prepare for my engagements, I find myself wondering: What will it take to build a food system that is not just safe but also trusted, transparent, and accountable?
