Illinois’ regulatory system for food production is a fortress of red tape. One that claims to protect the public but often does little more than snuff out the freedoms of small farmers and the choices of informed consumers. At the heart of this battle is the Private Membership Association, or PMA, a legal structure that should, by all logic and constitutional principle, shield private transactions between consenting adults from government interference.

Yet in Illinois, PMAs dealing in food are treated as if they’re just another storefront business, subject to the same inspections, licensing, and restrictions, despite being inherently private. It’s an overreach that reveals a deeper problem: the state’s inability (or unwillingness) to distinguish between public commerce and private agreement.

The Constitutional Foundation of PMAs

The concept of a PMA isn’t some modern loophole dreamed up by clever lawyers. It’s rooted in centuries-old principles of free association, contract rights, and limited government. Ideas that were foundational to the birth of the United States.

The First Amendment protects “the right of the people peaceably to assemble,” which extends beyond political rallies to include the right to form private associations for shared purposes. The Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments ensure that no person shall be deprived of “life, liberty, or property, without due process of law.” In plain language, the government can’t interfere in private agreements unless it can prove, with clear evidence, that harm has occurred beyond the bounds of that agreement.

Many of the Founding Fathers understood the importance of these principles in daily life, not just in politics. Thomas Jefferson championed the rights of local self-governance and was deeply wary of centralized power dictating personal choices. James Madison emphasized that property rights included the fruits of one’s labor and trade. Even Benjamin Franklin, who was no stranger to community organization, valued the role of voluntary associations in strengthening civic life without government mandate.

The essence of a PMA flows directly from this vision: private citizens, acting voluntarily, agreeing to terms among themselves without asking for, or needing, the state’s permission.

The Illinois Contradiction

Illinois, however, leans on what’s known as its “police powers”, the state’s claimed authority to regulate for public health and safety. In theory, this is meant to protect the public at large, but when applied to PMAs, the logic breaks down.

A PMA is not “the public.” Its members have entered into a private, contractual relationship. They know what they’re getting, and they assume the risks voluntarily. The government’s role should only come into play if there’s evidence that harm has spread beyond those members or, of course, if the action within the contract is criminal. For instance illegal drug trafficking, intent to use illegal drugs, etc... If no such evidence exists, the state’s intrusion violates both the letter and the spirit of the Constitution.

And yet, Illinois enforces food safety rules against PMAs under the same premise it uses for public restaurants or grocery stores, while selectively ignoring similar scenarios that contradict its own position. Herdshares, for example, allow members to own a share of a dairy animal and receive raw milk. The milk is still handled by someone else, often off their own property, and taken home just like any other product. If the state truly believed its own “public risk” argument, herdshares would be shut down. They aren’t. That inconsistency shows PMAs are being targeted, not out of necessity, but out of choice.

In Joel Salatins’ book ‘Everything I Want To Do Is Illegal’ and in a few of his speeches he says,

- “We live in an amazing country where it's perfectly legal to feed your kids twinkies, hoho cakes, and mountain dew, but raw milk, that's dangerous.“

- “Hunting is a proud time honored tradition that exists outside of food safety codes and is deemed 'safe' by thousands of citizens who eat venison every year.“

- "You can give away raw milk or cheese.  What is it about exchanging money that makes it a hazardous substance?"

I think that Joel is hitting the nail on the head here. We have so many known hazardous foods that can be consumed daily even by small children, yet products like raw milk, for example, were safe until it was industrialized in the 1850’s. Even in the hunting realm, you cannot take a wild animal and sell it, BUT you can give it away without any legal repercussion. Again, what is it about exchanging money that makes it a hazardous substance? The answer is simple. It has nothing to do with safety and in my opinion is one of the biggest hypocrites in the government that isn’t widely known or discussed.

This selective enforcement becomes even more absurd when you consider the products Illinois does allow. Alcohol is available in nearly every town, despite its well documented role in fatal accidents and long-term health problems. Cigarettes, proven to kill, are still legally sold. Yet raw milk, homemade chicken broth, and other traditional foods are treated as if they are dangerous contraband. The hypocrisy is impossible to ignore.

The Forgotten History of Raw Milk

For most of human history, raw milk was the only milk people drank, and no one questioned its safety so long as it came from a healthy animal and was handled cleanly. Families either milked their own cow or bought directly from a neighbor, meaning milk traveled only a short distance and was consumed quickly. If a cow was sick, the impact was limited to that household. This arrangement worked for thousands of years without any large scale milk related health crises.

The late 1800s changed everything. As cities swelled during the Industrial Revolution, urban dairies sprang up to meet demand. These operations were nothing like the small, pastoral farms of the past. Cows were often housed in cramped, filthy conditions, sometimes next to distilleries, where they were fed the hot, fermented mash left over from alcohol production. This poor diet and environment weakened the animals, leading to disease and a poor quality milk product. But the real danger came from the new industrial practice of pooling milk from hundreds, sometimes thousands, of cows into large vats. One diseased animal or one dirty milking bucket could contaminate the entire batch, and that contaminated milk could be distributed across an entire city.

The problem was compounded by the fact that milk was shipped long distances without refrigeration, allowing bacteria to multiply before it ever reached consumers. In some cases, dairies watered down milk to stretch their supply, and that water was often drawn from contaminated urban sources. These conditions set the stage for outbreaks of tuberculosis, typhoid, and other diseases tied to milk.

This was the world into which Louis Pasteur’s heat-treatment method arrived. By the 1890s, pasteurization began to be applied to milk in urban centers, and by the mid-20th century, it had become the legal standard in most of the United States. But it’s critical to note that pasteurization was a solution to the problems of industrial scale, pooled, and poorly handled milk. Not to raw milk itself. For over 9,000 years before that, raw milk was NOT considered a dangerous food when sourced directly from healthy animals in clean conditions. Its tarnished reputation is only about a century old, born from the failings of industrial practices, not from the nature of milk itself.

A Glimpse Beyond Illinois

While Illinois clings to its heavy-handed grip on private food agreements, other states are quietly proving that there’s a better way. Across the country, Private Membership Associations are operating legally and successfully, and they’re doing it without unleashing chaos or risking public health.

Take Wyoming, for example, where the Food Freedom Act allows direct sales of nearly any homemade or farm produced food without government inspection, provided the transaction is direct and consensual. Small dairies, backyard poultry producers, and artisan food makers there are thriving under a framework that trusts adults to make informed decisions. The state’s Department of Agriculture hasn’t reported any widespread foodborne illness linked to these arrangements.

Maine offers another model. Its Local Food and Community Self-Governance Ordinance empowers towns to exempt direct producer to consumer food sales from most state and federal regulations. Many communities have embraced PMA-like structures to formalize these relationships, giving farmers the freedom to serve their neighbors without navigating the bureaucratic labyrinth Illinois imposes.

Even in states without sweeping food freedom laws, PMAs are finding room to operate. In places like Texas and Virginia, associations have established clear membership vetting processes, member-only distribution points, and non-public communications, keeping their operations squarely in the private sphere. These groups are supplying raw milk, fresh meats, and traditional foods to dedicated members, all without interference.

The common thread in these examples is simple: trust. States that respect PMAs trust their citizens to enter voluntary agreements and take personal responsibility for their choices. They understand that private commerce, by definition, is not “public health” business unless harm actually spills outside the contract. And in practice, those harms have been rare to nonexistent.

If other states can strike this balance between freedom and accountability, there’s no reason Illinois couldn’t do the same, unless, of course, the goal isn’t safety, but control.

A Better Model: True Food Freedom