Americans Fell for a Theranos-Style Scam 100 Years Ago. Will We Ever Learn?
The huckster understands what people want – an easy route to good health -- and figures out just how to provide it as long as no one asks too many questions.
"Americans are very much prone to this sort of thinking: Give me a pill or give me a magical bean that can make me lose weight!"
The keys to success: Hoopla, fancy technology, and gullibility. And oh yes, one more thing: a blood sample. Well, lots and lots of blood samples. Every testing fee counts.
Sound familiar? It could be the story of the preternaturally persuasive Elizabeth Holmes, the disgraced founder of Theranos who stands accused of perpetrating a massive blood-testing fraud. But this is a different story from a different time, one that dates back 100 years but sounds almost like it could unfold on the front page of The Wall Street Journal today.
The main difference: Back then, watchdogs thought they'd be able to vanquish fake medicine and scam science. Fat chance, it turned out. It seems like we're more likely to lose-weight-quick than make much of a dent into quackery and health fraud.
Why? Have we learned anything at all over the past century? As we sweep into a new decade, experts says we're not as advanced as we'd like to think. But the fight against fraud and fakery continues.
Quackery: As American As America Itself
In the 17th century, British healers of questionable reputation got a new name -- "quack," from the Dutch word "quacksalver," which originally referred to someone who treats others with home remedies but developed a new meaning along the lines of "charlatan." And these quacks got a new place to sell their wares: the American colonies.
By 1692, a Boston newspaper advertised a patent medicine that promised to cure "the Griping of the Guts, and the Wind Cholick" and – for good measure – "preventeth that woeful Distemper of the Dry Belly Ach." A couple centuries later, the most famous woman in the United States wasn't a first lady or feminist but a hawker of nostrums named Lydia Estes Pinkham whose "vegetable compound" promised to banish "female complaints." One advertisement suggested that the "sure cure" would have saved the life of a Connecticut clergyman whose wife killed him after suffering from feminine maladies for 16 years.
By the early 20th century, Americans were fascinated by electricity and radiation, and both healers and hucksters embraced the new high-tech era. Men with flagging libidos, for example, could irradiate their private parts with the radioactive Radiendocrinator or buy battery-powered electric belts equipped with dangling bits to supercharge their, um, dangling bits.
The Rise of the Radio Wave 'Cure'
Enter radionics, the (supposed) science of better health via radio waves. The idea was that "healthy people radiate healthy energy," and sickness could be reversed through diagnosis and re-tuning, write Dr. Lydia Kang and Nate Pedersen in their 2017 book "Quackery: A Brief History of the Worst Ways to Cure Everything."
Detecting illness and fixing it required machinery -- Dynamizers, Radioclasts and Oscillocasts – that could cost hundreds of dollars each. Thousands of physicians bought them. Fortunately, they could work remotely, for a fee. The worried-and-potentially-unwell just needed to send a blood sample and, of course, a personal check.
Sting operations revealed radionics to be bogus. A skeptic sent a blood sample to one radionics practitioner in Albuquerque who reported back with news of an infected fallopian tube. In fact, the blood sample came from a male guinea pig. As an American Medical Association leader reported, the guinea pig "had shown no female characteristics up to that time, and a postmortem examination yielded no evidence of ladylike attributes."
When Quackery Refused to Yield
The rise of bogus medical technology in the early 20th century spawned a watchdog industry as organizations like the American Medical Association swept into action, said medical historian Eric Boyle, author of 2012's "Quack Medicine: A History of Combating Health Fraud in Twentieth-Century America."
"When quackery was recognized as a major problem, the people who campaigned for its demise were confident that they could get rid of it," he said. "A lot of people believed that increased education, the truths of science, and laws designed to protect consumers would ultimately drive quackery from the marketplace. And then throughout the century, as modern medicine developed, and more effectively treated one disease after another, many observers remained confident in that prediction."
There's a bid to "flood the information highway with truth to turn the storm of fake promotional stuff into a trickle."
But fake medicine persisted as Americans continued their quest to get- healthy-quick… or get-rich-quick by promising to help others to get- healthy-quick. Even radionics refused to die. It's still around in various forms. And, as the Theranos scandal reveals, we're still hoping our blood can offer the keys to longevity and good health.
Why Do We Still Fall for Scams?
In our own era, the Theranos company rose to prominence when founder and CEO Elizabeth Holmes convinced journalists and investors that she'd found a way to cheaply test drops of blood for hundreds of conditions. Then it all fell apart, famously, when the world learned that the technology didn't work. The company has folded, and Holmes faces a federal trial on fraud charges this year.
"There were a lot of prominent, very smart people who bought into the myth of Elizabeth Holmes," a former employee told "60 Minutes," even though the blood tests never actually worked as advertised.
Shouldn't "prominent, very smart people" know better? "People are gullible," said Dr. Stephen Barrett, a psychiatrist and leading quack-buster who runs the QuackWatch website. But there's more to the story. According to him, we're uniquely vulnerable as individuals to bogus medicine.
Scam artists specifically pinpoint their target audiences, such as "smart people," desperate people and alienated people, he said.
Smart people, for example, might be overconfident about their ability to detect fraud and fall for bogus medicine. Alienated people may distrust the establishment, whether it's the medical field or government watchdogs, and be more receptive to alternative sources of information.
Dr. Barrett also points a finger at magical thinking, which comes in different forms. It could mean a New Age-style belief that our minds can control the world around us. Or, as professional quack-buster Alex Berezow said, it could refer to "our cultural obsession with quick fixes."
"Americans are very much prone to this sort of thinking: Give me a pill or give me a magical bean that can make me lose weight! But complex problems need complex solutions," said Berezow, a microbiologist who debunks junk science in his job as a spokesman for the American Council on Science & Health.
American mistrust of expertise makes matters worse, he said. "When I tell people they need to get vaccinated, I'm called a shill for the pharmaceutical industry," he said. "If I say dietary supplements generally don't work, I'm a shill for doctors who want to keep people sick."
What can ordinary citizens do to protect themselves from fake medicine? "You have to have a healthy skepticism of everything," Berezow said. "When you come across something new, is someone trying to take advantage of you? It's a horrible way to think about the world, but there's some truth to it."
"Like any chronic disease, we will have to live with it while we do our best to fight it."
The government and experts have their own roles to play via regulation and education, respectively. For all the criticism it gets, the Food & Drug Administration does serve as a bulwark against fakery in prescription medicine. And while celebrities like Gwyneth "Goop" Paltrow hawk countless questionable medical products on the Internet, scientists and physicians are fighting back by using social media as a tool to promote the truth. There's a bid to "flood the information highway with truth to turn the storm of fake promotional stuff into a trickle," said Dr. Randi Hutter Epstein, a writer in residence at Yale School of Medicine and author of 2018's "Aroused: The History of Hormones and How They Control Just About Everything."
What's next? Like death, taxes and Cher, charlatans are likely to always be with us. Boyle quoted the late William Jarvis, a pioneering quack-buster in the late 20th century who believed health fraud would never be eradicated: "Like any chronic disease, we will have to live with it while we do our best to fight it."
You're invited: A Fireside Chat with the CDC's Dr. Nancy Messonnier
EVENT INFORMATION
DATE:
Monday, December 7th, 2020 12:00pm - 12:45pm PST
This virtual fireside chat will provide Dr. Nancy Messonnier, Director of the National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases, an opportunity to speak candidly to the public about the scientific integrity of the CDC, to address concerns regarding the speed and safety of coronavirus vaccines, and to discuss the government's work to distribute them quickly and equitably. She will appear in conversation with Nsikan Akpan, science editor at National Geographic. A public Q&A will follow the fireside chat.
CONTACT:
kira@goodinc.com
LOCATION:
Zoom webinar
HOSTS:
LeapsMag and the Aspen Institute Science & Society Program
REGISTER NOW
Nancy Messonnier, MD
Director of the National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases, CDC
LAUREN BISHOP - CDC
Nsikan Akpan
Science Editor, National Geographic
Kira Peikoff was the editor-in-chief of Leaps.org from 2017 to 2021. As a journalist, her work has appeared in The New York Times, Newsweek, Nautilus, Popular Mechanics, The New York Academy of Sciences, and other outlets. She is also the author of four suspense novels that explore controversial issues arising from scientific innovation: Living Proof, No Time to Die, Die Again Tomorrow, and Mother Knows Best. Peikoff holds a B.A. in Journalism from New York University and an M.S. in Bioethics from Columbia University. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and two young sons. Follow her on Twitter @KiraPeikoff.
How One Doctor Single-Handedly Saved Countless Babies from Birth Defects
In July 1956, a new drug hit the European market for the first time. The drug was called thalidomide – a sedative that was considered so safe it was available without a prescription.
Sedatives were in high demand in post-war Europe – but barbiturates, the most widely-used sedative at the time, caused overdoses and death when consumers took more than the recommended amount. Thalidomide, on the other hand, didn't appear to cause any side effects at all: Chemie Grünenthal, thalidomide's manufacturer, dosed laboratory rodents with over 600 times the normal dosage during clinical testing and had observed no evidence of toxicity.
The drug therefore was considered universally safe, and Grünenthal supplied thousands of doctors with samples to give to their patients. Doctors were encouraged to recommend thalidomide to their pregnant patients specifically because it was so safe, in order to relieve the nausea and insomnia associated with the first trimester of pregnancy.
By 1960, Thalidomide was being sold in countries throughout the world, and the United States was expected to soon follow suit. Dr. Frances Oldham Kelsey, a pharmacologist and physician, was hired by the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) in September of that year to review and approve drugs for the administration. Immediately, Kelsey was tasked with approving thalidomide for commercial use in the United States under the name Kevadon. Kelsey's approval was supposed to be a formality, since the drug was so widely used in other countries.
But Kelsey did something that few people expected – she paused. Rather than approving the drug offhand as she was expected to do, Kelsey asked the manufacturer – William S. Merrell Co., who was manufacturing thalidomide under license from Chemie Grünenthal – to supply her with more safety data, noting that Merrell's application for approval relied mostly on anecdotal testimony. Kelsey – along with her husband who worked as a pharmacologist at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) — was highly suspicious of a drug that had no lethal dose and no side effects. "It was just too positive," Kelsey said later. "This couldn't be the perfect drug with no risk."
At the same time, rumors were starting to swirl across Europe that thalidomide was not as safe as everyone had initially thought: Physicians were starting to notice an "unusual increase" in the birth of severely deformed babies, and they were beginning to suspect thalidomide as the cause. The babies, whose mothers had all taken thalidomide during pregnancy, were born with conditions like deafness, blindness, congenital heart problems, and even phocomelia, a malformation of the arms and legs. Doctors and midwives were also starting to notice a sharp rise in miscarriages and stillbirths among their patients as well.
Kelsey's skepticism was rewarded in November 1961 when thalidomide was yanked abruptly off the market, following a growing outcry that it was responsible for hundreds of stillbirths and deformities.
Kelsey had heard none of these rumors, but she did know from her post-doctoral research that adults could metabolize drugs differently than fetuses – in other words, a drug that was perfectly safe for adults could be detrimental to a patient's unborn child. Noting that thalidomide could cross the placental barrier, she asked for safety data, such as clinical trials, that showed specifically the drug was non-toxic for fetuses. Merrell supplied Kelsey with anecdotal data – in other words, accounts from patients who attested to the fact that they took thalidomide with no adverse effects – but she rejected it, needing stronger data: clinical studies with pregnant women included.
The drug company was annoyed at what they considered Kelsey's needless bureaucracy. After all, Germans were consuming around 1 million doses of thalidomide every day in 1960, with lots of anecdotal evidence that it was safe, even among pregnant women. As the holidays approached – the most lucrative time of year for sedative sales – Merrell executives started hounding Kelsey to approve thalidomide, even phoning her superior and paying her visits at work. But Kelsey was unmovable. Kelsey's skepticism was solidified in December 1960, when she read a letter published in the British Medical Journal from a physician. In the letter, the author warned that his long-term thalidomide patients were starting to report pain in their arms and legs.
"The burden of proof that the drug is safe … lies with the applicant," Kelsey wrote in a letter to Merrell executive Joseph F. Murray in May of 1961. Despite increasing pressure, Kelsey held fast to her insistence that more safety data – particularly for fetuses – was needed.
Kelsey's skepticism was rewarded in November 1961 when Chemie Grünenthal yanked thalidomide off the market overseas, following a growing outcry that it was responsible for hundreds of stillbirths and deformities. In early 1962, Merrell conceded that the drug's safety was unproven in fetuses and formally withdrew its application at the FDA.
Thanks to Kelsey, the United States was spared the effects of thalidomide – although countries like Europe and Canada were not so lucky. Thalidomide remained in people's homes under different names long after it was pulled from the market, and so women unfortunately continued to take thalidomide during their pregnancies, unaware of its effects. All told, thalidomide is thought to have caused around 10,000 birth defects and anywhere from 5,000 to 7,000 miscarriages. Many so-called "thalidomide babies" are now adults living with disabilities.
Niko von Glasow, born in 1960, is a German film director and producer who was born disabled due to the side effects of thalidomide.
Wikimedia Commons
Just two years after joining the FDA, Kelsey was presented with the President's Award for Distinguished Federal Civilian Service and was appointed as the head of the Investigational Drug Branch at the FDA. Not only did Kelsey save the U.S. public from the horrific effects of thalidomide, but she forever changed the way drugs were developed and approved for use in the United States: Drugs now need to not only be proven safe and effective, but adverse drug reactions need to be reported to the FDA and informed consent must be obtained by all participants before they volunteer for clinical trials. Today, the United States is safer because of Frances Kelsey's bravery.