Smart Bombs: Big Vitamin flexes its muscle

As a mainstream media guy, I realize that what I’m about to say will be instantly suspect among dwellers of the alternative universe. We’ve all met the enlightened people who load up on natural products, curse chemicals and drugs, pray for the arrival of Whole Foods, and believe only alternative media. Reminds me of that insufferable phase when I only listened to bands that hadn’t “sold out.”

Anyway, here’s what I wanted to say: There is no cure for the common cold. If there were, it would be very big news. The kind with giant headlines of the “MAN LANDS ON MOON” variety.

Not only is there no cure, but there’s no elixir that prevents it. Vitamin C? The jury is still out. Echinacea? Scant scientific confirmation. Cold-EEZE? May or may not relieve symptoms. Airborne? This “miracle cold buster” had to pay $30 million in a 2008 class-action lawsuit in which the Federal Trade Commission alleged deceptive claims. Sales exceeded $300 million in three previous years, so just consider it the cost of doing business.

Airborne is a prime example of how narrative trumps science, and how alternative medicine gains market share. These fizzy tablets – a mixture of herbs and vitamins – were invented by a second-grade teacher who was exposed daily to the sniffles and sneezes of her students. She certainly had the motivation to immunize herself and her colleagues, but did she have the expertise? Before that question could be answered, the Airborne story swept the nation with earnest anecdotal confirmation. Supporters were certain of its efficacy. And, look, how do you know you wouldn’t have gotten a cold had you abstained? This is what passes for proof in the alternative world.

Nutritional supplements, herbal remedies and other “natural” products are inoculated from Food and Drug Administration scrutiny before they go to market, thanks to U.S. Sen. Orrin Hatch, who was the chief author of a 1994 law on regulating the industry. He’s been a fierce ally ever since. Naturally, he is the leading recipient of campaign cash from Big Vitamin, and his home state, Utah, is the center of this empire. Naturally, too, his son is an industry lobbyist.

Big Vitamin is a $25 billion-a-year business, which is something to keep in mind the next time you hear the lazy charge that the media are puppets for mainstream medicine on issues such as water fluoridation and vaccination.

When Spokane was debating fluoridation, I found that many opposition claims were talking points from Internet sites such as Mercola.com, which peddles “health-promoting” products. Alternative health sites also host anti-vaccination nonsense, like a phony scare statistic about the measles vaccine that’s been popping up on social media. A quick online search reveals that the author sells coconut products (“Coconut Oil for Ebola Victims”).

Alternative media also peddle unproven claims that genetically engineered anything could be hazardous to your health. They charge, without irony, that the FDA is lax in its scrutiny. Part of the motivation for the recent ballot initiative was to increase sales of organic foods.

Thanks to Sen. Hatch, Big Vitamin and its natural allies can lob accusations about mainstream products, safe in the knowledge that its inventory won’t be placed under the same microscope. An old joke zeroes in on the discrepancy: “What do you call alternative medicine? Medicine.” If it works, it shouldn’t need the adjective.

Though true believers may not know it, alternative product pushers have already sold out. Politics, money, market share. It’s the same old tune.