By Charlotte Plaskwa
The medication Ozempic (active ingredient semalugtide) plummeted into global shortage this summer, preventing type 2 diabetics across the world from accessing the medication they rely on. However, we are compelled to ask whether responsibility for this widespread deficit lies with a tangible cause or, perhaps more aptly, an identifiable entity.
The drug works by mimicking incretin hormones, which manage insulin production in the body, but it has a notable side effect: reduced appetite and subsequently rapid weight loss. Remarkably, the medication found itself thrust into the public eye by none other than Kim Kardashian. The drug went viral on social media and spiked in demand after it was rumoured that the American socialite was using the injections to rapidly lose weight in order to fit into her iconic 2022 Met Gala gown, originally worn by Marilyn Monroe. As a result, doctors and clinicians have been off-label prescribing Ozempic for weight loss, contravening its FDA-approved purpose as a type 2 diabetic treatment.
It seems unfair that type 2 diabetics, the people whom the drug was initially manufactured for, are suffering at the hands of those following a viral Tik-Tok fad and celebrity rumours. This case emphasises the contentious practice of off-label prescribing, which has seemingly failed to accord stock priorities to those most vulnerable. However, beneath the surface of this medical quandary lies a deeper and more profound cultural conversation. The sudden upsurge in demand for this ‘miracle’ weight loss injection coincides with a disconcerting phenomenon: the reduction of the female body to trends. As one idealized body archetype falls out of vogue, another swiftly takes its place, oscillating between the ‘heroin-chic’ figure exemplified in the 2000’s on the likes of Kate Moss and the ‘BBL’ hourglass epitomized by the Kardashian family—both impossibly unattainable in their own right. What is considered the ‘desirable’ body is in a constant state of flux, rendering quick-fix solutions for body modifications, such as semaglutide injections like Ozempic, all the more enticing. The pharmaceutical and medical industries are providing women with vehicles to contort and change their bodies based on societal whims and trends, and big pharma corporations such as NovoNordisk, the Danish drugmakers of Ozempic, are profiting substantially. The remarkable success derivative of the soaring demand for Ozempic has yielded unparalleled economic outcomes for Denmark. In the previous year, an astounding two-thirds of the nation’s economic growth could be directly attributed to the pharmaceutical sector. Furthermore, in recent months, NovoNordisk’s market value has surpassed the entire size of the Danish economy, vividly illustrating the unprecedented level of demand for the semaglutide injections. This case underscores the profound impact that celebrity endorsements can have, even to the extent of reshaping a nation’s economic landscape.
Ozempic is by no means an isolated example of a drug facing a global shortage due to celebrity endorsements. The hormone regulator drug, Utrogestan (active ingredient progesterone), faced a similar scarcity after presenter Divina McCall spoke about its benefits for menopausal women in her documentary Sex, Mind and the Menopause which first aired on Channel 4 last May. In the last half-decade, the number of prescriptions for hormone regulator therapy has doubled, surging to a staggering figure exceeding 500,000 per month. This substantial surge in demand has presented a formidable challenge for pharmaceutical manufacturers, who are grappling to meet this unprecedented need. The global shortage has come to be known as the ‘Divina effect.’
A clear correlation exists between Ozempic and Utrogestan, exemplifying the transformative impact of celebrity endorsements on pharma market dynamics and the behaviour of both patients and prescribers. However, the discernible distinction between these two medications emerges in the broader context of women’s health, considering the socio-cultural benefits and detriments brought about by these shifts. This celebrity-backed endorsement of a drug has opened the conversation about menopause, a previously very censored, taboo, and under-researched domain of medicine, and has destigmatized the struggle of menopause in a woman’s life. An increasing focus has been placed on the impact of menopausal symptoms within the workplace, shedding light on an overlooked issue stemming from a culture of silence surrounding menopause. As an illustration of this issue, a collaborative study by The Fawcett Society, in partnership with Standard Chartered Bank and the Financial Services Skills Commission, revealed that numerous women in the financial services industry contemplate resigning from their positions or are less inclined to pursue promotions due to the challenges posed by menopause. Consequently, the sector is witnessing a loss of valuable talent. This data is now relevant and significant within the discourse that McCall has initiated. These positive strides in women’s health stand in contrast to the adverse implications of using Ozempic injections for weight loss in the promotion of morphing the body to conform to the ever-changing idealized body standards imposed upon women.
In both of these instances, regardless of one’s moral stance, it becomes evident that our social media-driven and celebrity-worshiping culture is infiltrating medical practice, impacting the behaviour of prescribers and reshaping the pharmaceutical markets. The question pertains to the necessity of imposing heightened regulations upon the practice of off-label prescribing within the purview of the FDA, with the aim of mitigating the potential for influential public figures to impact the distribution of medication and pharmaceuticals as opposed to healthcare practitioners.
The views expressed in this article are the author’s own, and may not reflect the opinions of The St Andrews Economist.
Image Courtesy of Dennis Klicker via Unsplash