Health Care/Joan Retsinas

The Business of Optimism, or Health-Hype

Kudos to the Federal Trade Commission for taking aim at health-hype: specifically, the hype behind advertisers’ claims for a slew of products that purport to make us healthier. Over the counter drugs, like aspirin, dietary supplements, like fish oil, and a multitude of “devices,” including not just knee implants and pacemakers but motorized toothbrushes, reap billions for their producers, as they tout the health benefits. But are those benefits real? Or are the producers marketing optimism?

Optimism is a heady business, and we 21st-century Americans, who scoff at the naïveté of the gullible consumers of the 20th century, who embraced goat gonads for fertility, are just as gullible, or, more accurately, hopeful.

For pharmaceuticals — drugs — the Federal Drug Administration has ruled that advertisers’ claims must have scientific backing. On television the slick ads for drug X proclaim the underlying clinical studies. The ads, though, also proclaim the side effects, which might range from headaches to diarrhea to death, as well as the pre-existing conditions that should dampen enthusiasm for Drug X. The FDA watchdogs monitor ads, searching for claims that shade truth into optimism. And the ads urge patients to “call your physician” for a prescription.

It is the stuff outside the purview of the FDA that draws on our gullibility mingled with distress overlaid with optimism. Their advertising may feature endorsements from people we really shouldn’t trust. Remember former Arkansas Governor Mike Huckabee’s “diabetes plan” that would eschew insulin? President Trump’s endorsement of Clorox for COVID? Gwyneth Paltrow’s jade vagina eggs? Generally their advertisements promise results, citing “clinical studies” conducted under the aegis of impressive-sounding institutes. They may even promise refunds if you are not satisfied after 90 days.

In December the FTC updated its Health Product Compliance Guide, replacing the 1988 brochure, “replacing the 1998 brochure, Dietary Supplements: An Advertising Guide for the Industry.” (The new guide covers more than supplements.”)

The strictures are explicit:

Those claims about scientific evidence should be based on “competent and reliable” scientific evidence. In short, no “observational” studies based on 50 people underwritten by the industry touting the product. The gold standard is a randomized clinical trial.

Zealous advertisers should avoid those beguiling catchwords, like “helps,” “promising,” “pilot, “preliminary.”

Disclosures — the bugaboo of zealous marketers — in print should be clearly visible, easy to read and understand. No fine-print disclaimers. The social media enthusiasm for a product should not rely on hyperlinks to give a potential consumer more information. In oral promotions, the disclaimers should be delivered clearly, and, again, in easily understood language. Sometimes the user might think, “This product can’t hurt. Why not try it?” Yet some products will interact with drugs, will have side effects.

For traditional medicines, such as homeopathy, the FTC allows no grandfathered exception to the strictures. A promoter can promote a product that has traditionally been used, but still cannot bandy about “observational studies,” “small scale clinical trials,” “preliminary results,” and the endorsement of famous clients.

Critics of government will lambaste the overreach of the FTC. But people concerned with the citizenry’s pocketbooks should cheer: we spend billions on the business of optimism. Perhaps some users gain from a placebo effect; perhaps some from the product itself. But clearing up the health-hype should at a minimum make us aware that in many cases we are buying primarily optimism. And many of us might demur before pushing our carts to the checkout counters with the goods.

Crucially, though, people concerned with the nation’s health should cheer. Often in reaching for the elixir that promises results, we are bypassing the medical advice we should heed, the tested drug that might prove effective, the therapeutic regimen we should try. Unlike the FTC goodie bag, the modern medical pharmacopeia, as well as modern medical wisdom, does not promise cures, does not offer money-back guarantees, cites no famous users. But 21st medicine might improve our health.

Joan Retsinas is a sociologist who writes about health care in Providence, R.I. Email retsinas@verizon.net.

From The Progressive Populist, February 15, 2023


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