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."
This Special Music Helped Preemie Babies’ Brains Develop
Move over, Baby Einstein: New research from Switzerland shows that listening to soothing music in the first weeks of life helps encourage brain development in preterm babies.
For the study, the scientists recruited a harpist and a new-age musician to compose three pieces of music.
The Lowdown
Children who are born prematurely, between 24 and 32 weeks of pregnancy, are far more likely to survive today than they used to be—but because their brains are less developed at birth, they're still at high risk for learning difficulties and emotional disorders later in life.
Researchers in Geneva thought that the unfamiliar and stressful noises in neonatal intensive care units might be partially responsible. After all, a hospital ward filled with alarms, other infants crying, and adults bustling in and out is far more disruptive than the quiet in-utero environment the babies are used to. They decided to test whether listening to pleasant music could have a positive, counterbalancing effect on the babies' brain development.
Led by Dr. Petra Hüppi at the University of Geneva, the scientists recruited Swiss harpist and new-age musician Andreas Vollenweider (who has collaborated with the likes of Carly Simon, Bryan Adams, and Bobby McFerrin). Vollenweider developed three pieces of music specifically for the NICU babies, which were played for them five times per week. Each track was used for specific purposes: To help the baby wake up; to stimulate a baby who was already awake; and to help the baby fall back asleep.
When they reached an age equivalent to a full-term baby, the infants underwent an MRI. The researchers focused on connections within the salience network, which determines how relevant information is, and then processes and acts on it—crucial components of healthy social behavior and emotional regulation. The neural networks of preemies who had listened to Vollenweider's pieces were stronger than preterm babies who had not received the intervention, and were instead much more similar to full-term babies.
Next Up
The first infants in the study are now 6 years old—the age when cognitive problems usually become diagnosable. Researchers plan to follow up with more cognitive and socio-emotional assessments, to determine whether the effects of the music intervention have lasted.
The first infants in the study are now 6 years old—the age when cognitive problems usually become diagnosable.
The scientists note in their paper that, while they saw strong results in the babies' primary auditory cortex and thalamus connections—suggesting that they had developed an ability to recognize and respond to familiar music—there was less reaction in the regions responsible for socioemotional processing. They hypothesize that more time spent listening to music during a NICU stay could improve those connections as well; but another study would be needed to know for sure.
Open Questions
Because this initial study had a fairly small sample size (only 20 preterm infants underwent the musical intervention, with another 19 studied as a control group), and they all listened to the same music for the same amount of time, it's still undetermined whether variations in the type and frequency of music would make a difference. Are Vollenweider's harps, bells, and punji the runaway favorite, or would other styles of music help, too? (Would "Baby Shark" help … or hurt?) There's also a chance that other types of repetitive sounds, like parents speaking or singing to their children, might have similar effects.
But the biggest question is still the one that the scientists plan to tackle next: Whether the intervention lasts as the children grow up. If it does, that's great news for any family with a preemie — and for the baby-sized headphone industry.
Couples Facing Fertility Treatments Should Beware of This
When Jane Stein and her husband used in-vitro fertilization in 2001 to become pregnant with twins, her fertility clinic recommended using a supplemental procedure called intracytoplasmic sperm injection (ICSI), known in fertility lingo as "ix-see."
'Add-on' fertility procedures are increasingly coming under scrutiny for having a high cost and low efficacy rate.
During IVF, an egg and sperm are placed in a petri dish together with the hope that a sperm will seek out and fertilize the egg. With ICSI, doctors inject sperm directly into the egg.
Stein, whose name has been changed to protect her privacy, agreed to try it. Her twins are now 16, but while 17 years have gone by since that procedure, the efficacy of ICSI is still unclear. In other words, while Stein succeeded in having children, it may not have been because of ICSI. It may simply have been because she did IVF.
The American Society for Reproductive Medicine has concluded, "There are no data to support the routine use of ICSI for non-male factor infertility." That is, ICSI can help couples have a baby when the issue is male infertility. But when it's not, the evidence of its effectiveness is lacking. And yet the procedure is being used more and more, even when male infertility is not the issue. Some 40 percent of fertility treatments in Europe, Asia and the Middle East now use ICSI, according to a world report released in 2016 by the International Committee for Monitoring Assisted Reproductive Technologies. In the Middle East, the figure is actually 100 percent, the report said.
ICSI is just one of many supplemental procedures, or 'add-ons,' increasingly coming under scrutiny for having a high cost and low efficacy rate. They cost anywhere from a couple of hundred dollars to several thousand – ICSI costs $2,000 to $3,000 -- hiking up the price of what is already a very costly endeavor. And many don't even work. Worse, some actually cause harm.
It's no surprise couples use them. They promise to increase the chance of conceiving. For patients who desperately want a child, money is no object. The Human Fertilization and Embryology Authority (HFEA) in the U.K. found that some 74 percent of patients who received fertility treatments over the last two years were given at least one type of add-on. Now, fertility associations in the U.S. and abroad have begun issuing guidance about which add-ons are worth the extra cost and which are not.
"Many IVF add-ons have little in the way of conclusive evidence supporting their role in successful IVF treatment," said Professor Geeta Nargund, medical director of CREATE Fertility and Lead Consultant for reproductive medicine at St George's Hospital, London.
The HFEA has actually rated these add-ons, indicating which procedures are effective and safe. Some treatments were rated 'red' because they were considered to have insufficient evidence to justify their use. These include assisted hatching, which uses acid or lasers to make a hole in the surrounding layer of proteins to help the embryo hatch; intrauterine culture, where a device is inserted into the womb to collect and incubate the embryo; and reproductive immunology, which suppresses the body's natural immunity so that it accepts the embryo.
"Fertility care is a highly competitive market. In a private system, offering add-ons may discern you from your neighboring clinic."
For some treatments, the HFEA found there is evidence that they don't just fail to work, but can even be harmful. These procedures include ICSI used when male infertility is not at issue, as well as a procedure called endometrial scratching, where the uterus is scratched, not unlike what would happen with a biopsy, to stimulate the local uterine immune system.
And then for some treatments, there is conflicting evidence, warranting further research. These include artificial egg activation by calcium ionophore, elective freezing in all cycles, embryo glue, time-lapse imaging and pre-implantation genetic testing for abnormal chromosomes on day 5.
"Currently, there is very little evidence to suggest that many of the add-ons could increase success rates," Nargund said. "Indeed, the HFEA's assessment of add-on treatments concluded that none of the add-ons could be given a 'green' rating, due to a lack of conclusive supporting research."
So why do fertility clinics offer them?
"Fertility care is a highly competitive market," said Professor Hans Evers, editor-in-chief of the journal Human Reproduction. "In a private system, offering add-ons may discern you from your neighboring clinic. The more competition, the more add-ons. Hopefully the more reputable institutions will only offer add-ons (for free) in the context of a randomized clinical trial."
The only way for infertile couples to know which work and which don't is the guidance released by professional organizations like the ASRM, and through government regulation in countries that have a public health care system.
The problem is, infertile couples will sometimes do anything to achieve a pregnancy.
"They will stand on their heads if this is advocated as helpful. Someone has to protect them," Evers said.
In the Netherlands, where Evers is based, the national health care system tries to make the best use of the limited resources it has, so it makes sure the procedures it's funding actually work, Evers said.
"We have calculated that to serve a population of 17 million, we need 13 IVF clinics, and we have 13," he said. "We as professionals discuss and try to agree on the value of newly proposed add-ons, and we will implement only those that are proven effective and safe."
Likewise, in the U.K., there's been a lot of squawking about speculative add-ons because the government, or National Health Service, pays for them. In the U.S., it's private insurers or patients' own cash.
"The [U.K.] government takes a very close look at what therapies they are offering and what the evidence is around offering the therapy," said Alan Penzias, who chairs the Practice Committee of the ASRM. It wants to make sure the treatments it is funding are at least worth the money.
ICSI is a case in point. Originally intended for male infertility, it's now being applied across the board because fertility clinics didn't want couples to pay $10,000 to $15,000 and wind up with no embryos.
"It is so disastrous to have no fertilization whatsoever, clinics started to make this bargain with their patients, saying, 'Well, listen, even though it's not indicated, what we would like to do is to take half of your eggs and do the ICSI procedure, and half we'll do conventional insemination just to make sure,'" he said. "It's a disaster if you have no embryos, and now you're out 10 to 12 thousand dollars, so for a small added fee, we can do the injection just to guard against that."
In the Netherlands, the national health care system tries to make the best use of its limited resources, so it makes sure the procedures it's funding actually work.
Clinics offer it where they see lower rates of fertilization, such as with older women or in cases where induced ovulation results in just two or three eggs instead of, say, 13. Unfortunately, ICSI may result in a higher fertilization rate, but it doesn't result in a higher live birth rate, according to a study last year in Human Reproduction, so couples wind up paying for a procedure that doesn't even result in a child.
Private insurers in the U.S. are keen to it. Penzia, who is also an associate professor of obstetrics, gynecology and reproductive biology at Harvard Medical School and works as a reproductive endocrinology and infertility specialist at Boston IVF, said Massachusetts requires that insurers cover infertility treatments. But when he submits claims for ICSI, for instance, insurers now want to see two sperm counts and proof that the man has seen a urologist.
"They want to make sure we're doing it for male factor (infertility)," he said. "That's not unreasonable, because the insurance company is taking the burden of this."