Chapter Fourteen - Lawsuits and Labeling

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Lawsuits and Labeling

FOR MOST OF its history, Nestlé didn’t court controversy. It simply outlasted it.

When it came to scandals, the company played a longer game. It rarely apologized outright, rarely admitted fault, and almost never lost in court. Not because the accusations were false, but because the systems they operated in were built to absorb impact.

The formula controversy in the 1970s didn’t end with a fine. It ended with a non-binding code from the World Health Organization. Nestlé agreed to follow it, at least publicly. Critics said it kept breaking it. But few governments enforced anything.

In the 2000s, labor lawsuits followed, including one where former child slaves from Mali sued Nestlé in U.S. federal court, alleging complicity in forced labor on West African cocoa farms. The case dragged on for years. In 2021, the U.S. Supreme Court ruled in Nestlé’s favor, citing jurisdiction issues. The company wasn’t held liable. Not because the abuse didn’t happen, but because the court ruled it happened outside U.S. borders.

Then came the food labeling battles.

In India, Nestlé faced a massive public backlash in 2015 over Maggi noodles, its wildly popular instant snack. Government tests reported excess levels of lead and MSG. The product was temporarily banned, pulled from shelves across the country. Nestlé denied wrongdoing, claimed the tests were flawed, and challenged the ban in court. Eventually, the noodles returned. Sales bounced back. But public trust took a hit.

In Chile, Nestlé fought the country’s strict front-of-package labeling laws, which required warnings for high sugar, salt, and fat content. The labels were stark, black stop signs on the packaging. Nestlé adapted reluctantly, reformulating some products but lobbying against broader regulation in other countries.

In California, Nestlé was sued over its bottled water claims, particularly over whether brands like Arrowhead actually came from spring sources. Multiple lawsuits argued the branding was misleading. Nestlé settled or maneuvered its way out of most of them.

At every turn, the company relied on a few key strategies.

Deny the claim. Stall the process. Settle quietly if needed. Never admit a systemic flaw. Point to audits, partnerships, certifications, or science. Frame the company as too complex to be reduced to a single narrative.

And it worked.

Nestlé was so large, so distributed, and so entrenched that even when individual products or practices were exposed, the machine kept running. No one boycott ever stuck. No single lawsuit ever shut them down. No fine ever exceeded what they made in a single quarter.

To regulators, Nestlé was a multinational economic partner.

To consumers, it was just the brand behind their coffee, their candy, or their kid’s cereal.

To governments, it was often too big to alienate.

So the revolt, when it came, wasn’t legal.

It was cultural.

People started paying attention. They were questioning labels, looking for the parent company behind the logo, and avoiding products, sometimes quietly, sometimes loudly. The anger didn’t always result in regulation, but it started to shape reputation. And in the long game, that’s what Nestlé began to protect most.

Not the products.

The brand.