‘Pluribus,’ Complacency and the Reluctant Steward

Spoiler alert: In the Apple TV series “Pluribus,” a virus sweeps the globe — not with chaos, but with eerie calm. It induces a synthetic peace: no resistance, no questions, no critical thought. The protagonist, Carol, is immune. We don’t yet know why, but for whatever reason, she sees through the illusion. And while she never asked for this role, she has come to accept it. Someone has to.

Some days, I feel like Carol.

She isn’t portrayed as a hero. She’s a reluctant steward: of truth, of memory, of change. That’s often the role of food safety advocates — stewards of the uncomfortable. In a world driven by convenience, speed and surface-level reassurance, we carry the burden of confronting what others would rather ignore.

While I’m hooked on the science fiction of “Pluribus,” I also see it as a reflection of something all too real. Our society increasingly leans on artificial satisfaction and the illusion of safety (particularly in our food systems), often at the expense of vigilance and accountability.

For more than three decades, I’ve worked across food policy, education and advocacy. In that time, I’ve seen how systems meant to protect the public can become dulled by routine, slowed by bureaucracy and influenced by economics. In “Pluribus,” the threat is a viral hive mind. In our world, it’s more subtle: a growing blind trust in systems not always equipped (or willing) to protect us.

As consumers, we’re comforted by labels and promises, but these don’t save lives. People do. And when those people — food safety and quality assurance leaders, regulators, whistleblowers, inspectors, scientists — are dismissed or silenced, the consequences are devastating.

We’ve seen those consequences. Not just as headlines, but as systemic breakdowns — cases where early warnings were missed, transparency was managed rather than embraced and brand protection eclipsed public health. Despite technological advances and regulatory progress, our food safety culture still struggles with a recurring theme: the cost of inaction.

At one point in “Pluribus,” the illusion breaks for the audience in a moment not unlike the iconic revelation in the 1973 sci-fi thriller “Soylent Green.” In that film, the truth wasn’t just horrifying; it had been normalized. Viewers are struck not only by what was hidden, but by how willingly the hive-like society accepted the truth. The same can be said for the way we sometimes accept surface-level safety in our food systems: as long as it looks clean, says “inspected” and is on the store’s shelf or the restaurant’s menu, we assume it’s safe enough.

When regulations become checkboxes, innovation outpaces scrutiny and public trust is managed more through messaging than measurable safety, we risk creating our own version of the “Pluribus” hive mind: a system where questioning is discouraged, early warnings are ignored and change only comes after tragedy.

Carol’s role in “Pluribus” is disruptive and often unwelcome. But it’s necessary. So is ours.

In a world driven by convenience, speed and surface-level reassurance, food safety advocates carry the burden of confronting what others would rather ignore.

As food safety advocates and professionals, we remember the names, the faces and the lives behind the statistics. We raise concerns when others are focused on efficiency or quarterly results. We speak out, not because it’s easy, but because silence carries a cost.

Carol’s worldview may be mistaken for cynicism. But it’s something else entirely: stewardship. She refuses to accept a comfortable illusion built on denial. Anyone who’s ever challenged the status quo in food safety will recognize that role.

We don’t yet know how “Pluribus” ends, but its emotional arc mirrors the path of food safety advocacy. It invites reflection on vigilance, resistance and the journey from awareness to action:

• Awareness. Carol sees what others don’t. In food safety, this means looking beyond marketing to identify real risk.
• Allies. She finds others like her, though few are willing to speak up.
• Advocacy. Her very presence is disruptive. Inaction, after all, is not neutral — it’s a choice with consequences.
• Activism. She raises her voice, even when not invited to the table. Lasting change demands such courage.

As “Pluribus” unfolds, it leaves us with questions worth asking in our field: Are we safer or simply more content? Are we strengthening systems or just pacifying consumers?

In food safety, as in “Pluribus,” the greatest threat may not be what we fear, but what we’ve stopped questioning.

And the cost of complacency is always paid by the public.