When pesticides first became popular in the mid-20th century, they were hailed as miracle tools to protect crops and feed a growing world. DDT, one of the earliest synthetic insecticides, was celebrated for saving lives from malaria and typhus. But as the years went on, it became clear these chemicals had a dark side.
The widespread use of pesticides took off during World War II, when compounds developed for warfare were adapted to agriculture. By the 1940s and ’50s, chemicals like DDT were sprayed on fields, homes, and even schoolyards with little hesitation. Advertisements assured the public that pesticides were not only safe but essential for progress.
But not everyone was convinced. Even before Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring (1962), scientists and public health advocates had begun to raise alarms:
Just before Thanksgiving in 1959, U.S. officials announced that a number of cranberry crops were contaminated with aminotriazole, a weed killer found to cause thyroid cancer in lab rats. Cranberries were the quintessential holiday food, and the scare triggered widespread panic. Sales plummeted overnight, farmers protested, and the episode became one of the first times Americans saw pesticides collide directly with the family dinner table. Even though the actual risk from a serving of cranberry sauce was likely small, the scare planted deep doubts about the safety of chemical residues in food.
Almost 30 years later, another high-profile pesticide controversy erupted. Alar, a chemical sprayed on apples to regulate growth and improve appearance, was linked to cancer risks, especially in children. In 1989, the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) released a report warning that apple products could expose children to dangerous levels. When 60 Minutes ran a segment on the issue, public reaction was immediate: apple sales collapsed, school cafeterias pulled apple juice, and growers were furious. Eventually, Alar was pulled from the market, but the event left a lasting mark. It showed how powerful consumer concerns could be, but also how the chemical industry fought back, accusing environmental groups of exaggeration.
These episodes—cranberries in 1959 and apples in 1989—bookend the rise of public awareness around pesticide residues. They showed Americans that pesticide risks weren’t abstract science; they could land directly on the holiday table or in children’s lunchboxes.
Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring built on these undercurrents. Her poetic prose, scientific credibility, and courage to confront industry directly gave her book a force none of the earlier warnings had achieved. It galvanized public opinion and led directly to the U.S. ban on DDT in 1972.
Most pesticides work by attacking the nervous systems of insects, causing paralysis and death. The problem is that insects’ nerves aren’t so different from ours. At high doses, or after years of exposure, some of these same chemicals can harm mammals—including rodents, farm animals, pets, and people.
Scientists now know that children are especially vulnerable. Studies have shown that even low levels of pesticide exposure during pregnancy can affect children’s brain development, lowering IQ and increasing risks of attention and learning problems.
Today the most controversial pesticide is Roundup, whose main ingredient is glyphosate. Roundup was introduced by Monsanto and quickly became one of the most widely used weedkillers in the world.
For decades, industry insisted it was safe. But in 2015, the World Health Organization’s cancer research arm declared glyphosate “probably carcinogenic to humans,” pointing to evidence linking it to non-Hodgkin lymphoma. This set off a storm of lawsuits. Thousands of farmers, gardeners, and groundskeepers who developed cancer after years of Roundup use took Monsanto (now owned by Bayer) to court. Juries have awarded billions of dollars in damages, even as government agencies like the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) continue to downplay the risks.
Adding to the controversy, court documents—sometimes called the “Monsanto Papers”—revealed efforts by the company to ghostwrite studies, influence regulators, and discredit independent scientists. For many critics, this looked like history repeating itself: the chemical industry once again prioritizing profits over transparency and public health.
Roundup is not the only flashpoint.
These fights show how slowly regulation often catches up with science.
One of the most pressing concerns today is pesticide residues in food. Government testing shows that most produce is technically within “legal safety limits.” For instance, the USDA’s 2023 Pesticide Data Program found that nearly 99% of samples were below federal tolerance levels, and about 39% had no detectable residues at all.
But “within legal limits” doesn’t necessarily mean harmless. Federal tolerances are based on single chemicals, not the reality that people—especially children—consume a mix of residues daily. And those limits don’t always reflect the latest science on subtle developmental effects.
Independent groups often take a closer look. The Environmental Working Group’s (EWG) 2025 “Dirty Dozen” list identifies produce most contaminated with pesticides:
By contrast, the “Clean Fifteen”—pineapples, avocados, onions, and others—showed little to no residue.
The difference between organic and conventional produce is striking. A recent European survey found:
This broad picture comes alive when we look at specific foods:
These side-by-side contrasts make the case that going organic—especially with high-residue crops—can meaningfully lower the chemical burden in everyday diets.
From DDT to Roundup, a recurring theme is the chemical industry’s efforts to protect its products at all costs. Internal documents, lobbying campaigns, and attacks on scientists have been used to cast doubt on evidence of harm. Similar tactics were once used by the tobacco industry.
Prominent voices like journalist Carey Gillam (Whitewash), scientist-activist Sandra Steingraber (Living Downstream), and the late Theo Colborn (Our Stolen Future) continue to warn that pesticides don’t just kill bugs—they seep into our environment, our food, and our bodies, with consequences we are still discovering.
Sixty years after Silent Spring, pesticides remain deeply embedded in our food system. They make farming easier and cheaper, but at a cost we can no longer ignore. Children, pets, and families face risks from chemicals designed to disrupt living systems.
The big question today is whether we will repeat the pattern—celebrating “miracle” chemicals until the damage is undeniable—or whether we will finally invest in safer farming methods, protect public health, and reduce our dependence on poisons.