Judge Blocks West Virginia’s Bold Move to Shield Kids from Food Dyes

Paul Riverbank, 12/27/2025West Virginia’s food dye ban stalls in court, spotlighting health, industry, and states’ rights battles.

Weeks before the order, grocery aisles in Morgantown buzzed with speculation: Would snack cakes, fruit gummies—any food bright enough to need a warning—disappear? Or was this yet another legislative flash-in-the-pan for a state grown skeptical of quick fixes? In the background, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. maintained his drumbeat: “It’s very clear…the dyes Governor Morrisey is banning are linked in very strong studies to ADHD and to cancers.” Not subtle, nor was the support from Governor Morrisey, who framed the ban as a defense against chemical threats he claims are already outlawed abroad.

But the law, House Bill 2354, got snagged by a technicality as old as the legal system itself—how do you draw the line between what’s “poisonous and injurious” and what is merely unpopular? The dye industry, working most forcefully through the International Association of Color Manufacturers, argued that West Virginia’s new measures created a regulatory spaghetti bowl. Don’t forget, they said in dozens of filings, not a single U.S. regulator has ever deemed these additives outright dangerous in current usage. They also warned—somewhat repetitively, critics say—of higher grocery bills and frustrated bakers if the dyes went away.

That argument, for the moment, prevailed. Judge Berger, her opinion sprawling over 30 pages, issued an injunction that presses pause while the courts grind out an answer. In her ruling, Berger peered into the nitty-gritty: what exactly would trigger the state health department to brand a dye as unsafe? Would a lone parent’s concern about their child’s hyperactivity upturn food manufacturing chains coast to coast? “It is far from clear,” Berger wrote, a line that may linger longer than any chemical on the FDA’s lists.

None of this is final—just a well-placed speed bump. The ban is on hold, not dead. Meanwhile, the narrower rule that blocks these dyes in public school cafeterias remains enforceable for now. The contrast is striking: a county judge parsing out regulatory jargon while school cooks in Logan County quietly alter recipes to comply.

Reactions, as you might expect, broke along familiar lines. Del. David Elliott Pritt, visibly frustrated, compared the industry’s legal arguments to greed run amok—“fighting for the ability to poison kids,” he snapped. Gov. Morrisey adopted a legalese-inflected tone, promising continued defense and calling the pause premature.

Beneath the noise, families and teachers are left guessing. Some parents decide their children’s eating habits by what’s cheapest; others, by the bold labels—and now, by court orders.

It’s not as if West Virginia is alone here. California and Utah have both nudged policies away from synthetic dyes in recent years, especially in the context of school nutrition. Then there’s Walmart, a bellwether now culling artificial dyes from its own-label foods—a move nearly as impactful as any local ban on the market.

So the food aisles haven’t shifted—yet. The legal wrangling is far from over. Advocacy groups are readying more evidence, industry groups more arguments, and rival states are watching carefully to see whether a state can set its own chemical safety standards.

Less certain are the answers to the real question: Who gets the final say over America’s lunchbox? For now, the court holds the gavel, not the legislature, nor the parent, nor the industry exec. The debate—filled with color, both literal and figurative—doesn’t look likely to fade soon.

The federal courthouse in Charleston was quiet, but the stakes were anything but. On Monday, Judge Irene Berger’s ruling thudded down like a gavel on West Virginia’s high-profile effort to keep artificial dyes out of local pantries—a fight that has, perhaps unexpectedly, caught the attention of both small-town parents and national health advocates.Weeks before the order, grocery aisles in Morgantown buzzed with speculation: Would snack cakes, fruit gummies—any food bright enough to need a warning—disappear? Or was this yet another legislative flash-in-the-pan for a state grown skeptical of quick fixes? In the background, Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. maintained his drumbeat: “It’s very clear…the dyes Governor Morrisey is banning are linked in very strong studies to ADHD and to cancers.” Not subtle, nor was the support from Governor Morrisey, who framed the ban as a defense against chemical threats he claims are already outlawed abroad.But the law, House Bill 2354, got snagged by a technicality as old as the legal system itself—how do you draw the line between what’s “poisonous and injurious” and what is merely unpopular? The dye industry, working most forcefully through the International Association of Color Manufacturers, argued that West Virginia’s new measures created a regulatory spaghetti bowl. Don’t forget, they said in dozens of filings, not a single U.S. regulator has ever deemed these additives outright dangerous in current usage. They also warned—somewhat repetitively, critics say—of higher grocery bills and frustrated bakers if the dyes went away.That argument, for the moment, prevailed. Judge Berger, her opinion sprawling over 30 pages, issued an injunction that presses pause while the courts grind out an answer. In her ruling, Berger peered into the nitty-gritty: what exactly would trigger the state health department to brand a dye as unsafe? Would a lone parent’s concern about their child’s hyperactivity upturn food manufacturing chains coast to coast? “It is far from clear,” Berger wrote, a line that may linger longer than any chemical on the FDA’s lists.None of this is final—just a well-placed speed bump. The ban is on hold, not dead. Meanwhile, the narrower rule that blocks these dyes in public school cafeterias remains enforceable for now. The contrast is striking: a county judge parsing out regulatory jargon while school cooks in Logan County quietly alter recipes to comply.Reactions, as you might expect, broke along familiar lines. Del. David Elliott Pritt, visibly frustrated, compared the industry’s legal arguments to greed run amok—“fighting for the ability to poison kids,” he snapped. Gov. Morrisey adopted a legalese-inflected tone, promising continued defense and calling the pause premature.Beneath the noise, families and teachers are left guessing. Some parents decide their children’s eating habits by what’s cheapest; others, by the bold labels—and now, by court orders.It’s not as if West Virginia is alone here. California and Utah have both nudged policies away from synthetic dyes in recent years, especially in the context of school nutrition. Then there’s Walmart, a bellwether now culling artificial dyes from its own-label foods—a move nearly as impactful as any local ban on the market.So the food aisles haven’t shifted—yet. The legal wrangling is far from over. Advocacy groups are readying more evidence, industry groups more arguments, and rival states are watching carefully to see whether a state can set its own chemical safety standards.Less certain are the answers to the real question: Who gets the final say over America’s lunchbox? For now, the court holds the gavel, not the legislature, nor the parent, nor the industry exec. The debate—filled with color, both literal and figurative—doesn’t look likely to fade soon.