From: Jim Rosenfield <[j n r] at [igc.apc.org]>
Newsgroups: talk.politics.drugs
Date: 26 Sep 94 17:56 PDT
Subject: Re: Nation Article on P.D.F.A.

Hard Sell in the The Drug War 

CONDONING THE LEGAL STUFF? 

by CYNTHIA COTTS   as appeared in "The Nation" 

"This is your brain on drugs," goes the fried egg ad. "Any 
questions?" -After seeing the ad some teenagers have stopped 
taking drugs-and some 4 yearolds have stopped eating eggs. "Fried 
Egg" is one of hundreds of ads released under the imprimatur of 
the Partnership for a Drug-Frei America. Launched in 1986 in New 
York City, this nonprofit group uses advertising to reduce the 
demand for illegal drugs. It's a flashy concept, but, as "Fried 
Egg" demonstrates, propaganda can breed misconceptions.  The 
Partnership means well, but it sends a self-serving message. The 
ads themselves exaggerate and distort, relying on scare tactics to 
get people's attention. Ad strategies are based on market research 
rather than public health policy. Even worse, the Partnership has 
accepted $5.4 million in contributions from legal drug 
manufacturers, while producing ads that overlook the dangers of 
tobacco,- alcohol and pills. This "drug-free" crusade is actually 
a silent partner to the drug industry, condoalng the use of "good" 
drugs by targeting only the "bad" ones. 
 Of course, the pharmaceutical and advertising industries havc 
long bccn intertwined. James Burke, who resigned as chairman and 
C.E.O. of Johnson & Johnson in 1989 to become chairman of the 
Partnership, is no stranger to marketing. In the `nid-1980s, he 
engineered a classic campaign to restore public confidence in 
Tylenol after the cyanide scare. 
  A few years later, Johnson & Johnson sued Bristol-Myers Squibb 
for claiming in its advertising that Aspirin-Free Excedrin is a 
better pain reliever than Extra-Strength Tylenol.  At the 
Partnership, Burke has implemented a concept borrewed from the 
pharmaceutical industry: If ads can sell drugs, they can unsell 
them, too.  
  Mote than 100 agencies have made Partnership ads pro bono, and 
the media kick in ad space and air time for free.  The incentive? 
Creative directors get to show off, giving their ads titles like 
"Candy Store" and "Tricks of the Trade" and submitting them for 
industry awards. The actors involved get exposure, and the media 
outlets can pat themselves on the back for contributing to a good 
cause. 
  Typically, Partnership ads are melodramatic They trade on scare 
tactics (the school-bus driver snorts coke) and stereo-types 
(black boys sell crack in the schoolyard). With their hard line on 
marijuana, Partnership ads revive an old message: One puff, and 
you're hooked. Dr. Gil Botven, who studies drug abuse prevention 
programs at Cornell Medical College, thinks "what the Partnership 
is doing is great." But, he adds, "scare tactics have never been 
demonstrated to be effective." 
  Partnership spokeswoman Theresa Grant doesn't like the 
term "scare tactics." "We feel it's appropriate to arouse 
peo-ple's attention," she says. A recent print ad shows a preteen 
in a denim jacket under the headline, "What she's going 
through isn't a phase. It's an ounce a week." The ad copy 
alerts parents to the dangers of pot smoking, and in doing so, 
it exggerares slightly-not many 10-year-olds could afford 
an ounce of marijuana a week, let alone smoke it and stay on 
their feet. When questioned about the exaggeration, Grant 
said the ad had just come under review. A few weeks later, the 
"Not Just a Phase" girl was back, taking up a full~page in The 
New York Times. 
  Fact checking is a sensitive issue for the Partnership. They've 
caught so much flak over the years for inaccuracies that the 
review process has been overhauled; now, the factual content of 
all ads is scrutinized before they're produced.  The first 
screamer was a 1987 TV ad depicting the brain wave of a l4 
year-old smoking pot. It was actually the brain wave of a coma 
patient. In 1990 Scientific American uncovered some cooked figures 
in a cocaine ad. Those early mistakes were really "born of 
naivete," says Grant. "Nobody intentionally distorted facts. In 
those days, they reaily thought they had the kind of 
substantiation they needed." 
  A 19% pnint-ad reels off marijuana slang terms and concludes, 
"No matter what you call it, don't call it harmless?'  The ad 
cites potential damage to the lungs and reproductive system. But 
calls to the National Cancer Institute and the National Institute 
on Drug Abuse (N.I.D.A.) didn't turn up any casualties, just a lot 
of inconclusive studies. One study did find "reduced gas exchange 
capacity" in the lungs of fifteen women who were chronic pot 
smokers. As for reproductive risks, scientists have iqjected a lot 
of pregnant monkeys with THC, the key psychoactive chemical in 
marijuana, but they've yet to come up with hard evidence, In fact, 
the health issue is "nebulous," Grant concedes, so the Partnership 
is switching its tack on marijuana. Future ads won't tell you it's 
dangerous, just that it's uncool. 
  Like its mentors in the pharmaceutical industry, the Partncrship 
has learned to backpedal. In the fall of 1990 the campaign sent 
ads to Alaskans for a Drug-Free Youth, a parent group that was 
campaigning to put recriminallzation of marijuana on the ballot. 
Recriminalization was passed that November, and the Partnership 
crowed about the victory in its Winter 1991 newsletter. 
  When asked about the Partnership's effort, Grant denies a 
political motive. "It wasn't any different than if we provided 
messages to a community group in Iowa," she says. "I must 
be remiss, because I never looked at it from the perspective 
of assisting in a political campaign." 

To maintaln its good reputation, the Partnership has to offer hard 
proof of advertising's impact on drug abuse. So, even though 
experts have concluded that media campaigns do not in themselves 
change behavior, Burke goes around trumpeting the power of the 
media to save children from drugs.  Burke is echoed by Mathca 
Falco, a former Assistant Secretary of State for International 
Narcotics Matters, who is now writing a book on drug prevention 
programs. The Partnership's greatest achievement, says Falco, is 
to convey the message that using drugs is silly. They're making it 
socially unacceptable, and that's the best way to bring about 
social change" 
  No one can prove that the ads are responsible for declining 
drug use or indeed that all drug use is down. The latest 
government surveys show a rise in the use of cocaine and heroin 
by urban youth, and in the use of LSD by college students 
nationwide. 
  When he needs proof Burke can quote the Partnership Attitude 
Tracking Survey (PATS), conducted annually at the Partnership's 
behest by the Gordon S. Black Corporation.  The PATS research 
suggests a correlation between teens who have seen the antidrug 
ads, teens who disapprove of drug use and teens who say no to 
drugs. But when Burke cites PATS, he doesn't mention that Gordon 
Black is a market research firm, or that PATS is based on "mall 
intercepts." That is, participants fill out questionnaires 
anonymously at shopping malls in sample locations. Confidentiality 
is thus guaranteed, but accuracy is not. 


The Partnership ignores cigaiettes, alcohol and pills. 


 At the University of Michigan, Dr. Lloyd Johnston, a research 
scientist, conducts an annual survey of high school students for 
N.I.D.A. According to Johnston, the mall intercepts are an 
inexpensive method of measuring trends, but they lack the sampling 
precision of a household survey. Nonetheless, Johnston's surveys 
do bolster the PATS conclusions. 
  Most teens remember the antidrug ads and report being influenced 
by them. "There's no guarantee advertising did it per se" says 
Johnston, "but it's clear things have moved in the right 
direction. "The PATS five-year summary reports that illegal drug 
use by students is dropping, but falls to mention that tobacco and 
alcohol are still teenagers' drugs of choice. Johnston's latest 
statistics show that 40 percent of tenth graders report drinking 
within the past month and getting very drunk within the past year. 
"The other thing that comes out of our surveys," says Johnston, 
"is that smoking has not dropped among young people for almost a 
decade." Nineteen percent of high school seniors are dally tobacco 
smokers, and hundreds of thousands of them, Johnston sadly 
predicts, will die of lung cancer one day.  
  The Partnership has traditionally attacked marijuana, cocaine 
and crack, drugs deemed widely available to schoolchildren. But if 
the Partnership's mission is to stop kids from experimenting in 
the first place, why not go after cigarettes and beer? The answer 
is obvious. According to Falco, "It would be suicidal if the 
Partnership took on the alcohol and tobacco industries. The 
Partnership is living off free advertising product and space, and 
the media and ad agencies live off alcohol and tobacco 
advertising." Theresa Grant acknowledges that the deeision to 
focus on illegal drugs was "pragmatic." based on the desire to 
"get the airtime and spacc and not alienate the people who are 
making this possible." The Partnership's condoning of legal drugs 
doesn't bother Falco. "The message may not be complete"' she 
chirps, "but it's better than nothing!" Many public health 
researchers, however, are concerned about a new generation of 
teens who smoke' drink and pop pills.  Experts believe that 
children begin using drugs in the order of availability, and 
they're more likely to try marijuana if they've already tried 
alcohol and cigarettes. "The natural thing in a prevention 
campaign," says Dr. Botven, "would be to focus on the three 
gateway substances: alcohol, tobaeco and marijuana. The 
Partnership starts with marijuana, and my concern is they're 
skipping the most important ones in terms of fatality." Johnston 
believes the Partnership has the ability to target legal drug 
abust, and says he "would be delighted if they would." When asked 
if he thinks that could happen, he pauses. "A betting man would 
say no." 
  In the Partnership's early days, its primary supporter was the 
American Association of Advertising Agencies. That group knew 
better than to alienate the legal drug industry. But the mandate 
must have been reinforced in 1989, the year Burke camie from 
Johnson & Johnson, bringing with him a $3 million grant from the 
Robert Wood Johnson Foundation, a prominent health care 
philanthropy. The foundation described its unusually handsome 
grant to the Partnership as "pivotal in leveraging ... support 
from other private foundations." 
  On cue, the other foundations rolled over.  In 1989 and 1990, 
the ten largest foundation grants for alcohol and drug abuse 
totaled $12.4 million. The Partnership took $4.7 million from that 
pool, or 38 percent. Many an individual donor gave its largest 
antidrug grant to the Partnership. In other words, the Robert Wood 
Johnson Foundation accelerated a trend: the channeling of 
foundation money into public awareness, which is considered a less 
effective form of drug-abuse prevention than school- and 
community-based programs.   
  The Partnership's funders are usually kept secret, says Grant, 
to protect them from other grant seekers and from the legalization 
lobby.  But the Partnership's 1991 tax return reveals another 
motive for secrecy: conspicuous support from the legal drug 
industry.  From 1988 to 1991, pharmaceutical companies and their 
beneficiaries contributed as follows: the J. Seward Johnson, Sr, 
Charitable Trusts ($1,100,000); Du Pont ($150,000); the Procter & 
Gamble Fund ($120,000); the Bristol- Myers Squibb Foundation 
($110,000); Johnson & Johnson ($110,000); Smith Kline Beecham 
($100,000); the Merck Foundation ($75,000); and Hoffman-La Roche 
($30,000). 
  Pharmaceuticals and their beneficiaries alone donated 54 percent 
of the $5.8 million the Partnership took from its top twenty-five 
contributors from 1988 to 1991. That 54 percent is conservative. 
It doesn't include donations under $90,000, and it doesn't include 
donations from the tobacco and alcohol kings: The Partnership has 
taken $150,000 each from Philip Morris, nheuser-Busch and RJR 
Reynolds, plus $100,000 from American Brands (Jim Beam. Lucky 
Strike). 
 Coincidence?  Hardly. The war on drugs is a war on illegal drugs, 
and the prtnership's benefactors have a huge stake in keeping it 
that way. They know that when schoolchildren learn that marijuana 
and crack are evil, they're also learning that alcohol, tobacco 
and pills are as American as apple pie.