Trump should eliminate this troubled risk assessment program

Among Washington’s sprawling regulatory bureaucracies, one program has quietly shaped environmental policy for decades. The EPA’s Integrated Risk Information System, known as IRIS, influences everything from chemical regulation to toxic waste cleanups. Through its risk assessment practices, IRIS is supposed to provide a balanced perspective on the dangers associated with toxins and chemicals. However, the office has a long history of applying methods that inflate the dangers of hazards.

The IRIS program was established administratively by the US Environmental Protection Agency in 1985 to centralize federal chemical risk evaluations. Risk assessment is intended to figure out which substances pose dangers to people in day-to-day life. When done right, it helps policymakers decide if a pollutant, chemical, or other substance requires strict controls. When done poorly, it becomes little more than ideology or guesswork cloaked in scientific jargon. Problematic science then sets the stage for far-reaching regulations that might not even target genuine risks.

A recurring complaint about IRIS is that it tends to ignore how much people are actually exposed to a substance. One of the most notorious examples is the office’s formaldehyde assessment. At one point, IRIS’s toxicity value for formaldehyde was set so low that typical concentrations of formaldehyde in a person’s own exhaled breath could exceed that threshold. The National Academy of Sciences published a report pointing out flaws in the logic that IRIS used to justify these estimates.

But formaldehyde is not the only substance that has raised eyebrows. Several plastic-related assessments also dismiss exposure realities. IRIS’s handling of bisphenol A (BPA) and various phthalates are cases in point. These widely used plastic additives have highly uncertain health effects. IRIS reviews ignore substitute chemicals that may not be as thoroughly studied or could pose greater risks if these plastics are banned or strictly regulated.

These problems trace back to how IRIS frames its assessments. The office tends to emphasize that if something can cause harm under highly theoretical or extreme circumstances, it’s worthy of taking a cautionary stance, even if everyday exposures are negligible. IRIS too often relies on worst-case scenarios, leading regulators to feel they have no choice but to enact strict regulations on the substances IRIS deems hazardous to health.

Such policies have major consequences beyond just for manufacturers. The cost of compliance gets passed down to consumers, raising prices on goods ranging from building materials to household items. This ripple effect also hurts smaller businesses that lack the deep pockets to manage sudden shifts in prices. Meanwhile, when IRIS sounds the alarm on risks that barely exist, resources that could be spent addressing real problems end up paying to comply with red tape instead.

In response to these concerns, some in Congress want to change how risk assessments are carried out at the EPA. One idea, reflected in the Improving Science in Chemical Assessments Act (H.R. 123), is to move these responsibilities into the specific offices that oversee air, water, or chemicals. The people who write and implement regulations have better incentives not to exaggerate health hazards, since they have to deal with the practical consequences.

Another idea, embodied in the No IRIS Act of 2025 (H.R. 1415), would prohibit agencies from relying on IRIS assessments. This prevents IRIS’s hazard-only logic from unduly influencing agency policy until all the relevant facts at hand can be collected and verified by more reputable EPA analysts and offices.

These reform ideas are in line with recommendations found in a new book published by the Competitive Enterprise Institute, Modernizing the EPA: A Blueprint for Congress. They are also consistent with President Trump’s emphasis on cutting waste in government, including through the Elon Musk-led office, the Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE).

Since DOGE’s remit is to streamline federal bureaucracy by cutting redundant or ineffective programs, it too may want to recommend folding IRIS’s responsibilities into the EPA’s other program offices or phasing out its work entirely. IRIS has appeared on the Government Accountability Office’s High-Risk List since 2009, the purpose of which is to identify federal programs vulnerable to waste, fraud, abuse, or mismanagement.

Reforming IRIS won’t eliminate genuine environmental concerns. But a risk assessment system that carefully considers exposure realities and targets the biggest problems first will do far more good for public health than one that leans on worst-case assumptions. The time has come for IRIS to make way for a system that places risks in the context of the real world.