Johnson & Johnson’s Baby Powder Scandal: What a Crisis Manager Would Actually Do
If Johnson & Johnson were my client, the first step would be to understand their position fully. They’d tell me there’s no factual evidence that their baby powder caused cancer, that testing over decades has shown no asbestos, and that the lawsuits are based on fear rather than proof.
From there, it becomes about finding balance. You have to respect the data and defend it clearly, but you also have to understand how this looks to everyone else. Because when a company changes the formula of a product that’s suddenly under scrutiny, even if it’s for practical reasons, people are going to notice.
And the public reaction is usually the same as mine when I first read it: if nothing was wrong, why change it?
That’s the question this entire case circles around, and it’s one that can’t be handled with blunt denials or corporate statements. It needs transparency, empathy, and proper explanation.
The Legal Situation
More than 3,000 people in the UK are suing Johnson & Johnson and its consumer arm, Kenvue UK, over claims that its talc-based baby powder caused ovarian cancer and mesothelioma. The lawsuits allege that the company knew about possible asbestos contamination and concealed it.
J&J denies that completely. They say decades of testing have shown no asbestos in their products and no proven link between talc and cancer. They also point out that talc is a naturally occurring mineral, and contamination can’t automatically be assumed.
So you have two very different narratives: one emotional and human, one scientific and data-driven. The truth will likely sit somewhere between legal precision and public perception.
From a PR Perspective: How You’d Actually Handle This
If I were advising J&J, the approach wouldn’t be dramatic. It would be methodical, calm and rooted in empathy. Cancer is one of the most devastating words in the English language. You can’t talk about it like a lawsuit, you talk about it like a loss.
But you also don’t apologise for something that hasn’t been proven. You build your response on facts that can be backed, and you communicate like a person, not a lawyer.
That means three things straight away:
Lead with empathy. “We’re deeply sorry for the pain families live with. We respect the process.”
Present the science. “Extensive testing over decades has found no evidence of asbestos contamination.”
Stay transparent. “We’ll keep sharing our data as this case progresses.”
That isn’t defensive, it’s disciplined.
The Optics Problem
Here’s where most people are going to struggle with this story: the product has changed.
In 2020, J&J stopped selling the talc-based version in the US, and by 2023, it had done the same globally. But they didn’t retire the brand. They replaced the formula with cornstarch: same packaging, same logo, same colour scheme.
From a marketing point of view, it’s smart. From a reputational point of view, it’s tricky.
It’s completely fair for the public to wonder why a company would alter something if it was truly confident in it. The answer might be regulatory simplicity or risk management, not guilt, but optics don’t care about nuance. What people see is a quiet swap, and that invites suspicion.
If this were my client, I’d tell them to address that directly. Something as simple as:
“We’ve moved to a cornstarch base to simplify our global supply and reduce debate around mined minerals. Our previous talc-based formula met every regulatory standard and showed no evidence of asbestos.”
That’s honest, clear, and it stops the silence from doing the talking.
When Empathy Meets Evidence
You can hold compassion for people suffering while also defending a client who believes they’ve done nothing wrong. That’s what makes crisis work so psychologically difficult, and so important.
If you sound clinical, you look heartless. If you sound emotional, you look guilty. The balance lies in tone: measured, calm, factual, human.
J&J’s best move now would be to release an independent audit trail of every safety test ever done, invite an external review panel, and publish it all publicly. Even if it confirms what they already know, that there’s no asbestos, it gives people something to see.
Facts aren’t enough anymore. People need visibility.
The Lesson for PR Professionals
This case isn’t just about a product. It’s about what happens when perception and science collide.
If you’re learning crisis management, this is what you should take away:
Empathy and evidence can coexist.
Silence creates suspicion.
Transparency buys time.
Changing a formula may be logical, but if you don’t explain it, it looks like guilt.
Crisis PR isn’t about spin, it’s about sequence.
You lead with care, follow with data, and close with action.
If Johnson & Johnson are right, this will eventually play out in their favour. But reputations aren’t won in court; they’re won in tone. And when people are grieving, scared or angry, the worst thing you can sound is certain.