Rather than codify another flawed definition, the FDA should rethink whether government food labels belong on packages at all.
Rather than codify another flawed definition, the FDA should rethink whether government food labels belong on packages at all.
W hat does “healthy” really mean? In just weeks, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) will finalize implementing a rule that defines which packaged foods can feature this coveted label.
At first glance, the effort seems sensible. Chronic disease is rampant: More than 40 percent of adults have obesity, 38 million live with diabetes, and heart disease remains the leading cause of death.
But the FDA’s rule falls short in the same way federal nutrition policy has for decades: by relying on weak science and overlooking real health risks.
The new rule gets one thing right: It would set strict limits on added sugars, recognizing their unmistakable link to chronic disease. But the rule incorrectly groups sugar with saturated fat and sodium, treating all three as equally harmful. The result? A policy that steers consumers away from whole, nutrient-dense foods.
Rather than codify another flawed definition, the FDA should rethink whether government food labels belong on packages at all.
The agency’s treatment of saturated fat as a dietary hazard, despite vast evidence to the contrary, reflects an inability to adjust to evolving science. Rigorous scientific reviews based on clinical trial data reveal no effect of saturated fat on cardiovascular or total mortality. A “state of the art” Journal of the American College of Cardiology review, whose authors include top nutrition experts, found “no robust evidence that current population-wide arbitrary upper limits on saturated fat consumption in the United States will prevent [cardiovascular disease] or reduce mortality.”
Yet under the FDA’s rule, foods with more than two grams of saturated fat per serving are disqualified from the “healthy” label — effectively excluding whole milk, yogurt, cheese, and many meats. Exceptions exist for seafood, nuts, and seeds — but not for other beneficial full-fat foods.
Sodium limits follow the same flawed logic. The rule caps sodium at 0.23 grams per serving for most products, despite evidence that population-wide sodium reductions are unnecessary and can increase adverse health outcomes. Several large studies, including one in The Lancet, have found mortality risk increases with low sodium intake. A 2017 technical report of the World Heart Federation, the European Society of Hypertension, and the European Public Health Association found “inconsistent evidence for further reductions below a moderate intake range (3-5 g/day),” notably above the 2.3-gram daily cap in our federal nutrition guidelines.
The new “healthy” rule means that naturally sodium-rich foods — like many cheeses — could be penalized, while reformulated ultra-processed foods may still qualify.
These misguided standards don’t arise in isolation. They reflect, in no small part, food-industry influence — through lobbying, research funding, and regulatory capture — on federal nutrition policy and public perception.
The FDA’s new rule draws from the Dietary Guidelines for Americans, which have long dominated public views on healthy eating. The guidelines also shape school lunches, feeding programs for the elderly, and military food.
Corporate influence on the guidelines process is well documented. An analysis of the 2020 guidelines’ expert committee members discovered that 95 percent had ties to pharmaceutical or food industries. A less extensive analysis of the more recent committee members found that nearly 50 percent had such ties. Yet the government still has no policy to disclose these conflicts. Similar industry deference at the FDA has left food-safety concerns, from industrial ingredients to additives, unaddressed.
Industry fingerprints on nutrition policy are not new. In the 1960s, the sugar industry funded research to downplay sugar’s health risks and shift blame to fat. The tactic worked. By the 1980s and ’90s, food companies responded to the government’s low-fat guidance by flooding the market with low-fat yet high-sugar snacks that were aggressively marketed as healthy.
Seed oils provide another example. Originally developed as machine lubricants, oils from cottonseeds entered the food supply as Crisco, a product of Procter & Gamble (P&G). In 1961, the American Heart Association endorsed seed oils as heart-healthy. That medical stamp of approval propelled seed-oil consumption ever upward, accounting now for 8–10 percent of calories in U.S. diets. Despite evidence connecting these oils to inflammation, oxidative stress, and chronic disease, seed oils remain favored in the guidelines, while saturated fats like butter are still wrongly maligned.
The FDA risks repeating these mistakes — doubling down on misplaced fears about fats and sodium while ignoring stronger, more current science.
Beyond the “healthy” labeling, the FDA has proposed a new front-of-package warning label on foods that exceed designated thresholds for saturated fat, sodium, or added sugars. So, while a product like low-sodium Ritz crackers could earn a government-backed “healthy” halo, nutrient-dense foods like whole milk or cheese would be flagged.
To his credit, Department of Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. delayed the effective date of the “healthy” label rule until April 28, signaling openness to reconsidering its merits.
But given the government’s track record on nutrition, it may be time to ask a bigger question: Should the FDA be in the business of labeling foods at all? Americans don’t need another seal of approval that misleads more than it informs.
If the FDA insists on proceeding, it must catch up with modern science — eliminating arbitrary limits and unjustified warnings on saturated fat and sodium. Consumers deserve clear, accurate information, not labels that stand between them and truly healthy choices.
Editor’s note: This article has been updated since its original publication.