This article was was republished with permission from The Legal Glass Substack

On February 18, 2026, President Donald Trump signed an executive order invoking the Defense Production Act (DPA) to direct the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) to prioritize domestic production of glyphosate-based herbicides and elemental phosphorus, a key ingredient used to manufacture them. The White House framed the move as essential to national and food-supply security, warning that disruptions could leave the U.S. vulnerable to foreign powers and undermine agricultural productivity.

For many supporters of the Make America Healthy Again (MAHA) movement, whose political mobilization helped shape the current administration, this was betrayal. Robert F. Kennedy Jr. spent decades as one of glyphosate’s most prominent critics. He litigated against its manufacturer and warned about chemical exposure, chronic disease, and regulatory capture. Yet as Secretary of Health and Human Services, Kennedy publicly supported Trump’s order, arguing that farmers have structured production around glyphosate for decades and that abruptly removing it could threaten food stability.

This article examines what the executive order actually does, whether it could effectively shield Monsanto/Bayer—the only domestic producer of glyphosate—from liability, whether the administration’s stated rationale withstands scrutiny, and what the move means for Americans concerned about toxic chemicals in food, water, and the environment and for the future of the U.S. food system.

What the Executive Order Does

The executive order invokes the Defense Production Act of 1950, a Cold War–era national-security law that allows the federal government to direct industrial production and allocate materials deemed essential to “national defense.” Historically, the DPA has been used to mobilize wartime production and secure critical supply chains during emergencies, including medical supplies during a pandemic. Its use for everyday agricultural chemicals in a non-emergency context is unprecedented. However, the Act does not limit its authority to declared wars or emergencies, and its extensive application during COVID opened the floodgates for use in non-emergency times.

Under the order, Trump delegated DPA authority to the Secretary of Agriculture. The Agriculture Secretary may set nationwide priorities, allocate materials, and issue binding orders to ensure a stable domestic supply of elemental phosphorus and glyphosate herbicides, in consultation with the Defense Department.

Unusually, the order explicitly directs the Secretary of Agriculture that any rules or directives must not jeopardize the financial viability of domestic producers. That language elevates the economic interests of chemical manufacturers — particularly Bayer/Monsanto, the sole domestic glyphosate producer — to the level of supply-chain security as a coequal policy priority.

This is a serious structural concern. By directing USDA not to jeopardize producer viability, the order constrains the agency’s ability to adopt policies that would materially reduce glyphosate production or demand. Any meaningful effort to phase down use, incentivize alternatives, or respond aggressively to market and litigation pressures would predictably affect Bayer/Monsanto’s bottom line. The viability clause therefore functions as a structural brake on reform, limiting how far USDA can go without running afoul of the order’s own mandate.

Finally, the order “confers all immunity provided for in Section 707” of the DPA. Section 707 shields companies from liability for harms resulting from compliance with DPA directives. This is not blanket immunity for all glyphosate use. But it attaches statutory protection to conduct carried out under federal order.

Taken together, the executive order goes far beyond symbolic language about food supply. It gives USDA binding tools to manage production and allocation, explicitly directs the agency to protect industry viability, and ties compliance with federal directives to legal immunity.

What the Executive Order Does Not (Yet) Do

The order does not grant blanket immunity for all glyphosate use. Section 707 protection applies only to harms resulting from compliance with specific DPA directives; routine agricultural use not tied to those directives remains subject to ordinary liability.

The order also does not rewrite pesticide law. The Federal Insecticide, Fungicide, and Rodenticide Act (FIFRA) continues to govern registration, labeling, and permissible uses. Nor does the order itself erase state-law lawsuits alleging cancer or failure to warn.

But the practical impact turns on how broadly USDA exercises its authority.

Presidents cannot unilaterally rewrite state tort law. That authority rests with Congress. However, by empowering USDA to issue binding directives tied to statutory immunity and by instructing the agency to protect producer viability, the order creates the possibility of broad functional protection if large segments of industry activity are folded into DPA-directed supply management.

Because there is only one significant domestic glyphosate producer, expansive or repeated DPA directives could, in practice, shield substantial portions of its U.S. operations from certain claims. Critics argue this could operate as de facto industry protection without Congress ever voting on a liability shield.

This is where concerns about misuse arise. The DPA was designed to ensure production during genuine national crises — not to serve as a stabilizing mechanism for corporations facing mass tort litigation. If routine production is formally structured as government-directed activity, the immunity provision could significantly narrow legal accountability — not by openly rewriting the law, but by strategically invoking a national-defense statute to achieve the same result.

Kennedy’s Statement of Support — and Why It Hasn’t Calmed Fears

When the executive order was unveiled, Secretary Kennedy issued a statement supporting it as necessary to stabilize agricultural production. He emphasized that farmers have built cropping systems around glyphosate for decades and that sudden withdrawal could disrupt yields and threaten food stability. He also said the administration remains committed to transitioning toward safer agricultural practices, but that such a shift must be gradual.

For many supporters, that reassurance rang hollow. Kennedy’s credibility was built on confronting toxic chemicals and regulatory corruption, including lawsuits against Monsanto over glyphosate. Now, as a cabinet official, he publicly endorses a measure that entrenches reliance on one of the most controversial herbicides in U.S. agriculture.

Critics note that the United States fed its population long before glyphosate became widespread and that farmers around the world use alternatives, including crop rotation, cover cropping, mechanical weed control, and integrated pest management, without collapsing food systems. Several countries have restricted or banned glyphosate without dramatic disruption.

The debate, then, is not merely about timing. It is about necessity versus convenience. If glyphosate were truly indispensable, gradual transition arguments might seem reasonable. But if it is embedded in industrial efficiency rather than biological necessity, elevating it to “national defense” status while failing to create structural incentives for alternatives feels less like prudence and more like preservation.

Why This EO Lands Hard Right Now

For many already skeptical of corporate influence in Washington, this order feels eerily familiar. When major industries face significant legal exposure, the federal government has often stepped in with protection. In 1986, Congress passed the National Childhood Vaccine Injury Act, shielding vaccine manufacturers from ordinary product-liability suits and limiting injured individuals’ access to civil courts. The PREP Act later granted sweeping immunity for COVID-19 countermeasures, effectively shielding COVID-19 shot manufacturers from liability.

In each instance, legal risk shifted away from corporations and onto individuals.

Now it appears that Bayer is following the same playbook used by vaccine manufacturers in the 1980s—warning that it may halt U.S. glyphosate production if liability risks persist, and demanding protection rather than accountability.

The timing intensifies skepticism. Just as Bayer agreed to a proposed $7.25 billion settlement resolving thousands of lawsuits alleging that Roundup causes non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma and other cancers, the administration elevated the same chemical to national-defense status while explicitly directing USDA not to jeopardize producer viability.

Viewed in this context, the executive order looks less like neutral supply-chain management and more like a strategic intervention to blunt legal accountability and stabilize corporate interests at a moment of acute legal pressure.

The Supreme Court Case and Other Legal Strategies

Glyphosate litigation has generated tens of thousands of lawsuits alleging cancer and other harms. The Supreme Court’s pending decision in Monsanto Co. v. Durnell will determine whether the Federal Insecticide, Fungicide, and Rodenticide Act (FIFRA) preempts state failure-to-warn lawsuits when EPA did not require a specific health warning on a pesticide label. If the Court finds preemption, entire categories of state claims could be wiped out — a result far broader than the DPA’s order-specific immunity.

At the same time, Bayer is pressing Congress for liability protections in the forthcoming Farm Bill. Draft language would establish uniform pesticide labeling standards and block state requirements that exceed EPA mandates, insulating manufacturers from a significant class of lawsuits.

Taken together, these efforts point to a coordinated, multi-pronged strategy: litigation in the courts, legislative action in Congress, and executive deployment of the DPA converging toward eliminating nearly all meaningful liability exposure.

What This Signals for Our Future

Secretary Kennedy has described this executive order as a stabilization measure — a bridge while the country transitions toward safer agricultural practices. He has argued that farmers cannot simply abandon glyphosate overnight and that reform must be deliberate.

But the text of the executive order tells a different story.

There is no sunset provision. No expiration date. No requirement that USDA reduce glyphosate reliance over time. No transition benchmarks. No reduction targets. No directive to develop alternatives. No incentives for farmers to move away from chemical dependence.

What the order does require is continued supply. It authorizes binding federal directives to prioritize production. It instructs USDA not to jeopardize the financial viability of domestic producers. And it activates statutory immunity for conduct taken under DPA orders.

That is not a transition framework.

It is a preservation framework.

If the administration truly intends this to be temporary, nothing in the order makes that intention enforceable. If safer systems are the goal, nothing in the order accelerates them. And if glyphosate producers are legally insulated while their financial viability is expressly protected, the structural incentives point in one direction: continuation.

This is why the backlash is not merely emotional — it is structural. Policy incentives shape outcomes. And this policy incentivizes maintaining the existing system, not dismantling it.

Movements rise on promises. They endure on follow-through.

If national security is now defined to include protecting a cancer-linked herbicide from legal and market pressure, then the question is no longer rhetorical. It is practical:

Is this a temporary stabilization on the way to reform, or the institutionalization of the status quo under the banner of defense?

Until there is a clear mechanism for reduction, phase-out, or replacement written into law or regulation, skepticism is not paranoia. It is prudence.

And that is where the story now stands.