Introduction
Sara Somers, a survivor of food addiction, once counseled that “there is a solution to the addiction of compulsively eating that is killing people.”
Like many, Somers struggled with food addiction. Her life was plagued with, as she described, “sullenness, self-centeredness, self-pity at being fat, anger, blaming others, and an inability to stop bingeing once certain substances entered [her] system.”
As with other substance-based addictions, food addiction left Somers feeling “helpless and powerless.”
And yet, as so often happens, her addiction was met with resentment and “violence.”
Although neuroscientists and psychologists validate food addiction as a disease,
many still consider it a “kind of defect of the will,”
not a medical condition. Food addicts are left rejected and discredited, without meaningful support to counter their addictions. But for Somers, food-addicted people do not lack “willpower.”
Rather, they “exert tremendous will to overcome the prejudices that are heaped on them.”
The main prejudice, of course, is the erroneous assumption that food-addicted people can simply stop eating in great quantities.
Food, these critics decry, is not an addictive substance.
They surmise that the problem must be internal: Food-addicted people must be too lazy or too weak to get in shape. But neuroscience counsels the opposite. Scientific studies have validated the existence of food addiction.
For a startling example, when given the choice between drinking water laced with sugar or cocaine, most lab rats choose to abuse the sweets.
This jarringly simple fact reveals a growing conclusion in the scientific community: Food is an addictive substance.
Like drugs and alcohol, certain foods trigger the neural centers in the brain responsible for forming addictive behaviors.
Despite many scientific efforts to validate food addiction
and growing public acceptance,
the concept has yet to achieve legitimacy among policymakers.
Concerningly, another set of actors is meticulously aware of the prevalence of food addiction—the food industry.
Food producers intentionally “pump[] edible and drinkable products full” of addictive additives like “sugar, caffeine, fat, sodium and carbs,” employing the “same tactics” the tobacco industry used to hook the country on cigarettes.
Consumers across the United States become dependent on these “hyper-palatable” foods (HPFs), which contain calorically rich, unhealthy, and addictive substances, driving up the profits for producers.
And given the lack of any meaningful regulation of HPFs, consumers are left to fend for themselves.
Private law presents a potential alternative to redress this issue. Tort litigation has proven to be a viable tool for advancing the interests of consumers against large corporations peddling harmful products.
In recent years, the tobacco
and opioid
industries have settled lawsuits with multiple plaintiffs over the harms of their dangerously addictive goods. Persistent plaintiffs forced these industries to shift their practices, benefiting the health of consumers.
And media coverage of these massive lawsuits spurred widespread conversations about addiction.
The judiciary’s constant reaffirmation of addiction in mass tort cases has legitimized it as a palatable legal concept.
In its most extreme form, food addiction can cause severe obesity, which is comorbid with a plethora of other health impacts.
Given the judicial and scientific validations of addiction litigation and coercive food practices,
food addiction seems, at first blush, a viable basis for tort litigation. Due to strong food industry lobbying and reactionary legislatures, however, a majority of states prohibit any sort of tort litigation alleging obesity-related harms against food providers.
They do this through misguided statutes, known as Commonsense Consumption Acts (CCAs), which were passed beginning in the early 2000s as a response to seemingly frivolous obesity-related tort litigation.
The statutes closed off judicial consideration of any obesity-related tort and, in some cases, explicitly denied that food addiction could be a scientific and legal concept.
Furthermore, they raised the burdens of proof for nontort claims, making any recovery for food addiction harms essentially impossible.
This foreclosure was premature. The statutes were passed before knowledge of food addiction became common among the scientific community or the American public.
Modern science undermines the justifications for CCAs, directly contradicting the legislatures that invalidated food addiction as a legal concept. In light of these changed circumstances, state legislatures should reevaluate the viability of CCAs.
This Note argues that CCAs should be amended to recognize food addiction as a legal concept. Part I will address the history of addiction litigation, including the ill-fated attempts at pleading obesity-related torts and the subsequent barrage of CCA enactments. Part II will identify the two main issues with CCAs: their failure to accord with modern behavioral science and their premature foreclosure of judicial consideration of obesity and food addiction. Part III will advocate for the amendment of CCAs to legally validate food addiction and to open the courthouse doors to the possible adjudication of obesity litigation.