A new federal bill aims to pull PFAS — the so-called "forever chemicals" — and other hazardous substances out of American food packaging. The legislation, called the No Toxics in Food Packaging Act, would deem several chemicals and chemical classes unsafe for use in food-contact materials, including PFAS, bisphenols such as BPA, ortho-phthalates and styrene polymers.
Packaging Dive reported that congressional Democrats introduced the bill in June 2026, with Sen. Richard Blumenthal, Rep. Jan Schakowsky and Rep. Rosa DeLauro among its sponsors. The point is not just to ban one chemical coating. It is to make food-contact packaging less dependent on a supply chain many brands still struggle to see clearly.
The conventional read on PFAS regulation has been that it is a state-by-state patchwork problem. California, Maine, New York and other states have already moved on food-contact PFAS restrictions, leaving national food companies to navigate different timelines and definitions.
The federal bill reframes that story. It treats the patchwork itself as the problem and argues that companies operating across state lines need a clearer national floor, even if stronger state rules remain in place.
PFAS are a class of thousands of synthetic compounds prized for their grease, water and stain resistance. That is why they ended up in fast-food wrappers, microwave popcorn bags, molded fiber bowls and pizza boxes. They also persist in the environment, which is the reason regulators keep circling back to them.
The health concerns are not just theoretical. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency says exposure to certain PFAS may be linked to adverse health outcomes, including developmental effects such as low birth weight and increased risk of some cancers. The science is still evolving, but the regulatory direction is clear: food packaging is no longer being treated as a harmless place for persistent chemicals to hide.
The financial stakes for manufacturers are getting harder to ignore too. Last month, the Australian government filed a $2 billion claim against 3M over PFAS contamination — the largest legal action ever brought by that country's federal government. 3M previously agreed to a $10.3 billion U.S. settlement in 2023 over drinking-water pollution tied to the same class of chemicals.
The bill would also push scrutiny beyond PFAS alone. It targets multiple chemicals used in food-contact materials and asks regulators to pay closer attention to replacements, which matters because swapping one questionable coating for another is how the packaging industry has often stayed one step ahead of public concern.
The counterargument worth taking seriously is that large food brands have already started phasing PFAS out voluntarily. McDonald's, Chipotle, Whole Foods and others made PFAS-free packaging commitments years ago. Critics of the bill could reasonably ask whether federal legislation is needed when the market is already moving.
The answer the bill's sponsors are offering is scale. Voluntary commitments leave smaller brands, private-label products and food-service supply chains unevenly covered. A federal floor closes that gap and makes it harder for the dirtiest part of the market to hide behind the cleanest brands' press releases.
For the plant-based and sustainable food sector, this matters in a specific way. Compostable bowls, molded fiber takeout containers and "eco" wrappers have historically been some of the most awkward PFAS cases because the materials were marketed as greener while often relying on persistent grease-resistant chemistry.
The Counter's earlier testing of molded fiber bowls helped make that contradiction visible, especially for restaurant packaging sold as compostable. The lesson for brands is blunt: a package can look sustainable, feel sustainable and still carry a chemical legacy that undermines the claim.
The companies that have already invested in PFAS-free alternatives stand to benefit if federal pressure keeps building. Those still relying on legacy coatings have a compliance problem coming, and possibly a reputational one too.
The bigger question this bill raises is who pays for the cleanup of materials that were sold as safe for decades. Australia's lawsuit suggests one answer. U.S. legislation like this suggests another: stop the contamination at the source before the liability compounds further.
