Merchandising madness: pills, promises, and better living through chemistry.

NEARLY A HALF-CENTURY AGO, THE DRUG THORAZINE WAS introduced to ease the suffering of the mentally ill and those who cared for them. Since then, pharmaceutical companies have laid the fruits of science and technology before us through advertising text and images that explicitly or implicitly promise some form of psychological "better living through chemistry." (1) Given our seeming preoccupation with one-stop shopping, ultrafast communication, and the quick fix, there appears to be a wholesale cultural acceptance of this promise as truth--so much so that of the billions of dollars spent annually on prescription drugs over the last several years--those designed to quickly and effectively combat depression, anxiety, and psychosis--consistently rank in the top ten ("Drug Monitor Report"; "US Physicians"; "Top 10 Therapeutic"; "Latest 12 Month").

This dynamic rise in psychotropic drug spending is due in large part to the combined success of the advertising, pharmaceutical, and psychiatry industries in commodifying mental illness. Commodification in this context refers to the blurring of boundaries between discomforts of daily living and psychiatric symptomatology to the point that both can be equally and efficiently remedied through mass-marketed products (i.e., psychotropic medication). And in our free-market, capital-driven society, advertising is the engine that shapes and runs this marketing. Further, as competition for market shares increases in this highly competitive and lucrative arena, "communication forms that abbreviate and truncate meaning systems" into familiar signs and symbols--that is, dramatic, eye-catching images and seductive text--ascend to the status of popular and powerful cultural icons (Goldman and Montagne, 1047). Who is not familiar with Pfizer's promotional antidepressant campaign featuring a despondent anthropomorphized egg that is transformed through its close encounter of a Zoloft kind?

This blurring of boundaries between the normal and pathological experience of anxiety and depression is continually made evident to television viewers, magazine and newspaper readers, Internet surfers, and medical professionals in the form of advertisements that pathologize and sometimes exaggerate the incidence of these conditions (Vedantam). Capitalizing on the turbulent effect of current events, including terrorism, unemployment, and economic disasters, as well as the disquieting influence of daily pressures, including parenting, noise pollution, and overcrowding, the alluring promises of psychotropic drug ads is often inescapable. People who struggle with the very common problems of shyness, sadness, nervousness, malaise, and even suspiciousness are offered refuge under the umbrella of drug-assisted well-being. Exemplifying this point is a 2000 Bristol-Myers Squibb ad in Reader's Digest for the anxiety drug BuSpar. It depicts a smiling young woman triumphantly sitting atop a mountain of words that spell out daily complaints: "I can't sleep ... I'm always tired ... so anxious."

Although it has even been argued that temporary emotional discomfort can be instructive, adaptive, and motivational (Kramer 93), Americans readily accept this sacrifice for the benefit of instant equilibrium to the tune of $10.4 billion spent in 2000-2001 on the four top-selling antidepressants alone: Zoloft, paxil, Wellbutrin, and Celexa (Stefanova; "Antidepressants").

Historical Foundation

The first major push in print psychotropic drug advertising in this country came in the late 1940s, to help manage the rigors of daily life and assist a wounded population recovering from the collective trauma of war. Early ads in professional medical journals promised restful sleep, relief from the psychoneurotic symptoms of depression and anxiety, an improved outlook, and even aid to the unfortunate housewife managing both an ailing husband and returning war veteran son {who was} "a drunkard too weak to support himself." (2) The introduction of the major tranquilizer Chlorpromazine (Thorazine) in 1954 simultaneously heralded the era of deinstitutionalization of the mentally ill and the institutionalization of psychotropic drug advertising.

Thorazine, along with its soon-to-arrive competitors Desbutal, Miltown, Serpasil, Sandil, and Desoxyn, to name a few, picked up the pace with added promises of "counteracting the extremes of emotion, eliminating bizarre behavior problems, facilitating psychiatric treatment and dispelling shadows." (3) Throughout the rest of the 1950s, the push continued to advertise medications that were aimed not just at the everyday person, but at those unfortunate previously hospitalized mental patients who were now trying to piece together lives outside institutional walls. Images of contented former patients working productively were contrasted with those of their distraught, isolated, and deranged counterparts depicted "peering over the edge of a house of cards"--or, as in a 1956 ad for the antidepressant Serpanry, turned away from the portal to an idyllic pastoral setting. By the end of that first decade of advertising psychotropic drugs, families were depicted in various phases of reunion, men returned successfully to work and women to their domestic responsibilities. Sociocultural equilibrium was to be found in a jar.