When dairy cows in Texas started falling ill last spring, alarm bells started to ring. Veterinarians had found feverish cows struggling to breathe and yielding barely any milk alongside rotting dead barn pigeons and dead cats that had eaten the pigeons or drunk contaminated milk. This nightmarish scene led veterinarians to suspect an unprecedented outbreak of H5N1 (bird flu) in cattle.
One veterinarian sent an urgent email in mid-March to the National Veterinary Services Laboratories (NVSL) in Ames, Iowa. Days went by with no response. Finally, on March 25, USDA's lab confirmed that the H5N1 strain of avian influenza virus had indeed infected dairy cows in Texas and Kansas.
This revelation sent shockwaves through the scientific and agricultural communities. While H5N1 bird flu had affected various species globally — ranging from skunks and bears to sea lions — this marked the first known occurrence in cattle.
The stakes were huge: Not only could an outbreak threaten the dairy and beef industries, but unchecked it could spread the virus among cows with the potential for transmission to pigs –– a species in which different viruses could mix and form new variants during simultaneous infection, creating an unpredictable and potentially catastrophic situation. In fact, the first case of H5N1 in pigs was reported in the Washington Post on October 30:
Bird flu detected in a pig for the first time in the U.S., raising concerns
Pigs can become coinfected with bird and human viruses, allowing genes to swap to form a new, more dangerous virus that can more easily infect humans.
The H5N1 virus has been on epidemiologists' radar for nearly two decades as a deadly flu virus with the potential to mutate and spark a pandemic among humans. Virologists have long warned that if bird and human flu viruses recombine during simultaneous infection in animals like pigs or cattle, it could produce the worst-case scenario: a new virus capable of human-to-human transmission. The possible outcomes of such an event are dire; the Gates Foundation's Institute for Disease Modeling estimates that a global flu pandemic could claim up to 33 million lives within six months.
Veterinarians assumed that once the virus was detected, federal agencies would immediately spring into action, as they had in similar previous outbreaks. But that didn't happen.
"Nobody came," said one Western state veterinarian. "The government ... didn't know what to do so they did nothing."
Government inaction
The government's inaction has allowed H5N1 to spread with remarkably little attention. The virus has now affected at least 324 dairy herds across 14 states; 26 farmworkers exposed to infected cows and poultry have also fallen ill. While there have been no reported human fatalities and the human cases have been relatively mild, these numbers are surely an undercount due to insufficient testing, opposition from dairy farmers, and the lack of a nationwide surveillance program.
In one disconcerting case, a person in Missouri with no known exposure to infected animals tested positive, and several healthcare workers who treated the patient also fell ill. Unfortunately, they were not tested.
While it remains unclear how H5N1 spread in this case, public health officials worry that the virus is evolving, potentially making the jump not only from cows to humans but from human to human.
Dairy herds in California have been hit hard, with up to 15% of sick cows dying, significantly higher than death rates seen elsewhere. The FDA has issued warnings about the potential health risks of consuming raw, unpasteurized milk from infected herds, but assures the public that pasteurized milk remains safe to drink because any virus present has been inactivated.
What should have been an all-hands-on-deck response has instead become a cautionary tale of intimidation, politics, and missed opportunities. Veterinarians who raised alarms about the virus were silenced, and some even lost their jobs. Federal agencies responsible for managing the outbreak have been accused of failing to act quickly enough and instead choosing to prioritize the dairy industry's short-term economic interests.
USDA is the primary culprit in this failure. The department is tasked with two conflicting roles: protecting the health and safety of the nation's livestock while promoting and protecting the $174.2 billion agriculture industry. Sick cows with a novel strain of bird flu do not bode well for business, especially for a dairy sector that exports millions of tons of milk, cheese, and other products globally each year.
Shortly after the March detection of H5N1, USDA imposed what amounts to a gag order on its employees, according to insiders. State veterinarians began receiving private phone calls from their USDA colleagues, who told them to refrain from discussing the outbreak without prior approval. This information embargo severely hindered the response from the start.
Defending the department, Eric Deeble, the deputy undersecretary for marketing and regulatory programs, denied any attempt to silence employees. He claimed the intent was merely to ensure that the agency spoke with a "single voice" and was not overly restrictive. In a statement, a USDA spokesperson demonstrated that the agency had taken swift action to halt the virus's spread and protect the nation's food supply. The facts argue otherwise.
Why the slow response?
Usually, the USDA's responsibility to protect the public aligns with its mandate to advocate for the livestock industry. Not this time. Secretary of Agriculture Thomas Vilsack, who previously served as president and CEO of the U.S. Dairy Export Council, has been notably reluctant to publicly address the bird flu crisis.
Raising additional concerns about potential conflicts of interest, during the World Dairy Expo, Vilsack sidestepped a reporter's question about whether he would return to the dairy industry after his tenure at USDA. That fueled speculation about his and his department's priorities. The overall situation has the stench of a conflict of interest if not outright malfeasance by a cabinet secretary.
Adding to the complexity of the situation and other possible conflicts is the Biden administration's newly established Office of Pandemic Preparedness and Response Policy (OPPR). Intended to coordinate swift responses to future outbreaks, the office struggled to manage an unexpected interspecies outbreak during an election year.
Paul Friedrichs, the retired military doctor appointed to head the OPPR, graphically acknowledged the challenges: "Holding grown men in my arms while they died in Iraq was easier than coordinating the federal response to the H5N1 outbreak."
Why so many missed opportunities to contain the outbreak? Rick Bright, a former federal Health and Human Services official, believes politics trumped public health. "This didn't have to be a nationwide outbreak, but there was an intentional decision made by USDA and the agricultural lobbying groups to let it rip."
Will this delayed and bungled response serve as a wake-up call for a more proactive and transparent approach to our next, inevitable, pandemic? Or will we continue to play a dangerous game of catch-up with a virus that could reshape the world's public health landscape?
The solution must be found in the political realm: whether federal agencies and the officials who manage food-related crises be permitted to operate under conditions that present a clear conflict of interest – that is, whether the government cedes its commitment to public health to a narrow, commercial constituency.
Note: Much of the information herein was first disclosed by the excellent investigative reporting of Katherine Eban.
Henry Miller, a physician and former influenza virus researcher, is the Glenn Swogger Distinguished Fellow at the American Council on Science and Health. He was the founding director of the FDA's Office of Biotechnology. Find Henry on X @HenryIMiller.