Finding Some Hidden Hazards in New Products
Last month, the makers of Tushies, a “revolutionary” new disposable diaper, sued the chemical company that provided the diaper’s superabsorbent fiber. Not until Tushies were on the market, they said, were they told that the fiber released a toxic substance when exposed to urine.
The situation makes one think of other advances that had unexpected downsides. Some were discovered early. Some proved dangerous, even lethal, only much later.
In most cases, consumers could hardly discern or predict the dangers. “I’m as suspicious as any consumer,” says Arthur Lehman, a New York attorney representing RMED International, Tushies’ manufacturer, “but I don’t have a testing laboratory in my bathroom.”
The lawsuit seems to pose simple, if arguable, questions: Who knew what, and when did they know it? What’s unarguable, and the biggest problem is that the consumer is the last to know anything.
Before Tushies, Arco Chemical’s superabsorbent fiber, Fibersorb, had great potential but only one actual use--in fluid-absorbing mortuary and autopsy pads. Arco urged it on the makers of both adult and baby diapers, and RMED International was interested, wanting to make “environmentally benign” diapers that, unlike other disposables, didn’t use wood pulp for absorption, and thus avoided cutting down trees.
By December, 1990, RMED had set up assembly and distribution facilities and was actively marketing Tushies, although few were yet in consumer hands. In January, it learned for the first time that Fibersorb contained a nitrile (a cyanide compound) called tetramethylsuccinonitrile, or TMSN, that released on exposure to urine. Capable of absorption by the skin, TMSN could cause physical problems ranging from skin discoloration and gastric distress to convulsions and coma. This was not what RMED had in mind when it advertised “big changes from little diapers.”
RMED, which says Arco Chemical not only failed to mention Fibersorb’s dangers, but hadn’t tested its safety for infant diapers, stopped shipping Tushies in mid-January and is suing for $50 million in damages. Arco, says a spokesman, “did all we had to do: The product was safe.” Nevertheless, it soon shut down production and stopped selling Fibersorb because of “capital requirements, market risk and a lack of strategic fit with our core business.”
For all the pain of litigation ahead, the consumer, for once, is not a party. In past cases, which sought to assign responsibility for an advance-turned-threatening, the consumer was among the injured.
Asbestos was hailed for decades as a great insulating material before it became public knowledge that it caused asbestosis and/or cancer. A generation of babies had to grow up before a link was established between their malformations and cancers and their mothers’ taking of DES, a drug prescribed to prevent miscarriage in the 1930s, ‘40s and ‘50s.
Discovery sometimes came more swiftly. The Dalkon Shield was marketed for just a few years as an intrauterine device before being linked to infections, abortion, even death. A sudden increase in toxic shock syndrome was fairly quickly attributed to the use of extra-absorbent tampons such as Rely, withdrawn in 1980.
These, like many of today’s products, are what the Federal Trade Commission calls “credence goods,” whose promised performance the consumer must take on faith. One has no way of testing or judging their claims, including their implied safety. Some wreak only minor injury; a heralded tampon design that causes death is another matter.
With all of today’s technical advances, and all the promotions claiming technical advances, there seem to be more credence goods than ever. But there were probably just as many new things under every sun: It’s said that when the Romans discovered that lead made wonderful pipes for carrying the public water supply, the effect on public health contributed to the fall of the empire.
Consumers depend on government or vendors to test new products. Many believe that government approves everything. Indeed, some products do require pre-market clearance. But it seems that neither the EPA (which regulates toxic substances) nor the FDA (which regulates medical devices) ordinarily do diapers, even those that may contain toxic substances.
The Consumer Product Safety Commission does no pre-market clearance but can investigate potential health hazards and recall products already on the market. The commission has done diapers, investigating ultra-absorbent disposables for possible toxic shock syndrome, and the dioxin content of paper diapers in general (neither was a problem), but not Tushies.
As for the vendor, “when you get into advanced technology, whether it’s a jet airplane or a diaper,” a Procter & Gamble spokesman says, “there’s a protocol to follow before you go on the market.” But who is responsible for seeing that it’s done--manufacturer, distributor or retailer?
Consumers are the most responsible for their own safety but have the fewest options. They can try to stick to components proven over centuries--nothing fancy, but good: cotton, wood, sugar. They can try to put a testing lab in the bathroom. Or they can just try their ignorant best as always, asking a lot of questions and praying they don’t end up in a suit like Tushies’.
