We depend on the press—newspapers and popular magazines—for reliable information and an informed report on the current public issues affecting us. Everyday we read information supplied to us by the popular press and accept it as factual. With new breakthroughs occurring daily, scientific topics are increasingly discussed in the press. Does the press represent scientific topics fairly and accurately, presenting both sides of powerful and influential issues?
Loaded with metaphors and often damaging underlying narratives, scientific topics as portrayed in popular magazines could have powerful implications for us all. An examination of the scientific concepts and biological foundations of mainly aging, addiction, and depression as they are presented in popular news magazines such as Time and Scientific American reveals the presence of many narratives and metaphors in the discussion of these scientific concepts. Among these narratives are science vs. nature, the narrative that science intervenes to save us where nature fails and including the metaphor of scientists as soldiers, hunters, and detectives fighting the battles produced by the fallacies of nature; and, the narrative of the “new science” that reduces the human experience to biological processes that can be altered with quick-fix remedies for everything science defines as disease. These narratives and metaphors influence our lives in numerous ways; they create an increased fear of natural processes like aging and death, they imply that science is superior to nature and that we are justified in manipulating nature to suit our needs, and they suggest the we do not need personal accountability for the course and quality of our own lives.
A predominant narrative found in a discussion on aging in the Time article “Forever Young,” which is introduced with the cover sentence “How science is searching for ways to keep us Forever Young,” is the notion that science intervenes to save us where nature falls short. This narrative is developed with language that represents aging as being equal to disease and degeneration, producing negative associations of aging with disease. For example, the aging process is talked about in terms of cellular aging—degenerating cells, cellular breakdown, and cellular abnormality like glitches in DNA. An explanation of the cellular breakdown process that accompanies aging and leads to damaged cells is followed by the contention that “a lifetime of this may lead to a range of disorders, including cancer and the more generalized symptoms of aging like wrinkles and arthritis” (Kluger 1996). The “glitches” in DNA lead to the development of the “diseases of aging;” Alzheimer’s disease is referred to as “yet another scourge of the aged” (Kluger 1996). These statements clearly illustrate that aging is, in fact, a disease and is indicative of the degeneration of quality of life. In effect, quality of life is represented by people who might live “well into their second centuries with the smooth skin, firm muscles, clear vision, high energy, and vigorous sexual capabilities they once could enjoy only in youth” (Kluger 1996). Quality of life is defined as the features of youth; aging is defined as disease, degeneration, and ultimate death, thus the need for science to devise ways to cure us by keeping us “Forever Young” (Kluger 1996).
Clearly then, if aging—or senescence science—is a disease, it is not a natural process but a failure and shortcoming of nature that can and should be challenged, manipulated, and corrected through science. According to the author of this article, this “new wave” of senescence scientists have “decided that the old way of thinking about senescence needs to be challenged” and they are looking for “a life extension that’s not so much incremental as exponential…a doubling or tripling of human life expectancy” (Kluger 1996).
Within this narrative of science vs. nature, there are metaphors of scientists as soldiers, hunters, and detectives, desperately fighting the enemy—the villainous shortcomings of nature. For example, in the discussion of aging, scientists as soldiers are “armed” with the knowledge of the cellular mechanisms of aging and are determined to “defeat the aging process” (Kluger 1996). In an article about a Hong Kong flu virus, scientists are “The Flu Hunters” and “viral ghostbusters” (Larson 1998). In addition, in another article about E. coli water pollution, scientists are “medical detectives” hot on the trail of a “deadly microbe,” and participate in “sleuthing” and “inspecting” (Kluger 1996). Adding to the detective metaphor, in an article on depression, dopamine is referred to as scientist’s “prime suspect” (Nash 1997).
Although the two latter articles do deal with situations of immediate life and death situations, as opposed to the article on aging, these metaphors nonetheless all illustrate that scientists are portrayed as fighting against and in opposition to nature, in the same way that detectives fight against criminals, soldiers fight the enemy, and hunters stalk their prey.
The implications of this narrative are particularly damaging. Within the subject of aging, the science vs. nature narrative and the metaphors could reasonably lead to increased fear of death and aging and the tendency to view these as unnatural processes. We hear no voices talking about aging as the product of the natural, biological processes that sustain us, nor do we hear anything positive about aging at all. Does this type of narrative explain why as a society we have such a tendency to fight the natural processes of life (e.g., as reflected by our need to distance ourselves from death by putting makeup on people when they are dead, so we can see them as they looked when they were alive). Is the prevalence of narratives like these the reason why we can’t face death and aging?
In addition, the narrative creates the notion that nothing is natural—not even the process of living, aging, and dying. Every biological process can be equated with disease and therefore there is nothing that this “new science” can’t cure, creating the need for quick-fix remedies for everything science defines as disease. This creates a lack of personal accountability for how we live our lives—if science will develop a drug to cure aging, why do we need to take care of ourselves by eating right and exercising? This subject is discussed more in depth in the Quick-fix Remedies section of this paper.
Last of all, this narrative creates the notion that regardless of the outcomes and implications of scientific research we have a right and responsibility to conduct it. This is evident in the fact that no implications of this aging research are offered. After suggesting we are trying to develop ways to enable people to live to be 200 we do not hear voices regarding the current population problem; it is never addressed that the natural course of aging and death are nature’s way of trying to keep our population in balance. In fact, it is never suggested that nature may have intended certain processes, such as our own lifespans, to be as they are—that in fact they are not failures but the natural course of things for reasons yet unknown to us. It is always assumed that we have the right to manipulate nature through science to suit our needs; it is always assumed in the narrative that science is superior to nature, that science has the power to answer questions left faltering by nature and correct the mistakes made by nature. This in itself leads to the devaluation of the human experience—for we are not merely intricately constructed human organisms but largely a bundle of nature’s mistakes.
In addition to aging, another example of the science vs. nature narrative lies in the popular discussion of the biological, chemical foundations of addiction and depression. In “How We Get Addicted,” a Time article on human addiction, it is concluded that the neurotransmitter dopamine, the “master molecule of addiction,” is responsible for feelings of pleasure and exhilaration (Nash 1997). People’s bodies deal with dopamine in different ways: some people produce too little dopamine and some have a lack of ability to absorb dopamine. Thus, it is hypothesized, people who have abnormal levels of dopamine seek pleasure and gratification with actions (e.g., gambling) and drugs (e.g., heroin, cocaine, nicotine, caffeine) that elevate dopamine levels and make them feel good. The theory claims that these drugs and actions “fool the brain” into thinking these dopamine-enhancing activities are good—in other words, if we do something and it feels good, we’ll do it again. Therefore, for people who crave the rush of dopamine produced by drugs, the abundance of addictive drugs in our society does not work well with our biological do-it-again-if-it-feels-good system and is “hijacking a natural reward system that dates back millions of years” (Nash 1997). Thus, this failure and shortcoming of nature—“the master molecule of addiction”—accounts for cases of not only drug addiction but “severe alcoholism, pathological gambling, binge eating, attention-deficit hyperactivity disorder” (Nash 1997).
In a Scientific American article on depression, “The Neurobiology of Depression,” after a long introduction on the American suicide rate, “the ninth leading cause of death in the U.S. (slightly behind infection with the AIDS virus),” and an opening portrait entitled “Old Man With His Head in His Hands” by Vincent Van Gogh, alluding to Van Gogh’s depression and eventual suicide, depression is automatically characterized as extreme and equated with suicide and death (Nemeroff 1998). Therefore, depression, like aging and addiction, is disease-like, and once again is the shortcoming of nature because it is the product of genetic and hormonal abnormalities. Therefore, it should be cured by science.
With depression and addiction, the problem with the science vs. nature narrative is not that people with depression and addiction don’t have serious conditions and shouldn’t be helped with scientific drug treatments. The problem with the narrative is the exclusion of voices recommending other types of treatment besides drugs (e.g., counseling) and the exclusion of the voices that tell us we need personal accountability in our lives. We should be reminded, not encouraged to forget, that our own life decisions lead us to points in our lives where we experience happiness or depression. Instead, within this narrative, depression and addiction are extreme diseases explained by the biological processes of science and cured with scientific medications such as drugs that influence dopamine and serotonin levels. Our lives, therefore, are not something we control through our own decisions as much as they are predestined products of inner biological activities. In addition, this narrative ignores the forces other than biology that shape us; it devalues the human experience because we are not represented as eclectic products of life experiences and social, political, societal, and environmental forces. We are just the products of biology.
Another narrative found in the discussion of these scientific topics is the notion that “new science” reduces the human experience to biological processes. It is evident in the previous sections of this paper that the biological theories of depression and addiction tend to discount the human experience by reducing the complexities of our minds and emotions to the activity of single chemicals called neurotransmitters as well as mistakes of nature. However, when evaluating the metaphor occurring in these texts that represents the body as a machine, it is clear that the human experience is not valued in this scientific discourse. This is evident, for example, in the continual references to the body and its biological processes as being machine-like. In an article on aging, cells are described as having internal clocks, “if the clock could be found—and, more important, reset—both the cells and the larger corpus that gave rise to them might be made immortal” (Kluger 1996). When talking about residue from cellular metabolism, residue is said to “gum up the body’s works…however, there may be a way to get things unstuck,” and scientists are said to have a “genetic lever on the aging process,” all implying the body is machine-like (Kluger 1996). In this article the machine metaphor is also extended to that of a ship, for example, when talking of caloric reduction as a means to life extension, caloric restriction is defined as “little more than patching holes in a slowly sinking ship…what senescence researchers really want is a way to get down to the body’s engine room—the genes themselves—and rebuild things from the boilers up” (Kluger 1996). In the end, the author of this article actually comes right out and states that “the body, after all, is just a machine…and, as with all machines, it should be possible to extend the warranty” (Kluger 1996).
The machine metaphors do not end within the discussion on aging. In an addiction article, scientists struggle to make sense of the machine-like “mechanisms of addiction” (Nash 1997). Biological processes are once again analogous to a boat, for dopamine “ferries” messages between neurons and cocaine creates high dopamine levels by inhibiting a transporter molecule that is supposed to “ferry dopamine back into the cells that produced it” (Nash 1996). In an article on depression discussing an area of the brain identified responsible for depression, it is stated that “this area of the brain may act as a set of brakes for emotional responses” (Gorman 1997). And finally, in an article on Viagra and other quick-fix drugs, the author contends that “If science insists on getting more mileage out of the engine and prolonging our lives—thus allowing us to work into our 70s—what’s wrong with maintaining the chrome and fenders?” (Handy 1998). These statements obviously illustrate the contention that—whether it is a clock, boat, or car—the body is analogous to a machine within this popular scientific discourse.
These machine metaphors illustrate the notion that the body is viewed as a machine, making us less human and devaluing the human experience by implying that, like a machine, all we are in need of when something goes wrong is a new part or tune up here and there. And from this notion springs the idea of quick-fix drugs, usually in the form of a pill, which are discussed in the last section of this paper.
In reality, we are much more than mechanisms of interconnected parts and the processes of neurotransmitters—we are thinking, feeling, subjectively reasoning creatures. This notion is lost as the machine metaphor reduces the complexity of the whole human experience to physical, machine-like scientific processes. A single chemical such as dopamine or serotonin explains our feelings of happiness, pleasure, sadness, and pain—at the base of this machine narrative, we have no control over our lives and so the idea that we are personally accountable and responsible for our own lives is diminished.
The narrative also discounts the intricate complexities of our subjective minds, our social networks, our environmental influences and life experiences. If it weren’t for narratives like these, perhaps we would all take a more active role in creating our own lives instead of relying on the quick-fixes of science to save us. It seems a life as a machine paradigm would be healthier, for this would convey the notion that life is something we create and actively participate in—here we would have control over our lives and the quality of our lives, and we would view our decisions as important because of this.
One last narrative found in the discussion of aging, depression, and addiction is the idea that “new science” can cure anything it labels as disease; this disease can in turn be altered with quick-fix remedies for every natural condition of life that we may decide we don’t like. Therefore, all the unnatural ailments—aging, depression, addiction—discussed so far and many that haven’t been—impotence, baldness, weight gain—can be cured with quick-fix remedies usually in the form of a pill. Like the machines that we are—a car, for example—all that we need is a quick-fix, a spare part, and we are as good as new.
The quick fix narrative is evident in the outcomes of the scientific research on aging, depression, and addiction, to name a few. The ultimate goals of the aging research, for example, are drugs that enable cells to live longer, such as a “pill to trick a cell into thinking less food is coming in” and thus allegedly create the life-extending benefits of caloric restriction, as well as other pills and cell therapy to treat aging (Kluger 1996). Among the variety of current drugs used to “fight the aging process” are DHEA, Melatonin, Antioxidants, and Human-Growth Hormone (Kluger 1996).
The ultimate goals of depression and addiction research are also drugs that influence the amounts of neurotransmitters, such as antidepressants for depression like Prozac, Zoloft, and St. John’s Wort (Lemonick 1997). These neurotransmitter drugs now treat not only depression and addiction; in addition, we have a surge “hot new drugs,” quick-fix drugs for everything from baldness (Rogaine, Propecia), impotence (Viagra), and wrinkles (Renova), to cholesterol fighters (Lipitor) (Lemonick 1997, Handy 1998). These drugs are seen as “magic bullets” that “seek to rewrite the physical and mental decline genetically programmed into each of us” (Handy 1998). Amazingly, these drugs are termed “life-style-enhancing drugs” and, according to one doctor, these “quality of life drugs” are “gene-based just like those for serious medical conditions. In areas like impotence, aging skin, baldness and obesity, the science is just as profound as if you were working in cancer, asthma or anti-infectives” (Handy 1998).
There are many problems with this narrative that communicates that we are no more than a machine in need of the tune-ups provided by all these different drugs, and that these drugs can cure anything. For one thing, there is once again no indication of personal accountability. This narrative, as long as we have all these miracle drugs available to us, indicates that who we are biologically and genetically is more important than how we live, and therefore we can live however we want. As long as there are pills to fix the problem, we need not worry about diet, exercise, and good health practices like choosing not to smoke and drink excessively. This narrative does not bother to suggest to us that perhaps these “diseases”—aging, obesity, impotence, baldness—are many times diseases of our way of life and within our control. And most importantly, we do not hear the voices from the victims of the unknown effects of these quick-fix drugs, such as those who have died from heart complications produced by the weight-loss drugs Redux and Fenfluramine.
In addition, once again, nature is labeled as inferior, as producing mistakes evident within us that must be remedied by science. As a result, once again, the complexity of the human experience—sex, happiness, and weight, for example—is reduced to biological processes that can be manipulated and regulated with drugs. For as long as our human experience is completely biologically explained, there will be drugs to treat what science deems disease.
Overall, the narratives presented suggest that nature is inferior to science, that natural processes such as aging are mistakes of nature and scientists must fervently fight the inferior enemy of nature; that science is an all-knowing, cure-all mechanism that frees us from accountability in the quality of our own lives; that the human experience is machine-like and easily explained through biological processes and entirely repaired with quick-fix treatments; and that no human process is necessarily natural and created in its form for a reason ordained by nature herself—we are comprised of mistakes demanding scientific manipulation and correction.
In reality, the narratives are not forced upon us; we do not want to admit that our problems are largely due to our own way of life and are the direct result of the choices we make. Therefore, the existence of the quick-fix treatments, our “lifestyle-enhancing drugs” for example, must reflect a societal desire for them. Why else would we name them in this manner, if not to cover up and/or rationalize our own desires for them?
The truth is that we want to eat whatever we desire and then take a pill that will cure our chronic heart disease; we want to live forever but only if we retain the characteristics of youth. We create the narratives that ensure and sustain the existence of our own personal worlds, worlds where these desires become reality. The prevalence of these narratives in the popular media then enforces our idealistic beliefs that our deep-rooted desires will become reality. And so, our cycle of behavior perpetuates the need to hear our own narratives.
Works Cited
Gorman, Christine. “Anatomy of Melancholy.” Time 5 May 1997:78.
Handy, Bruce. “The Viagra Craze.” Time 4 May 1998:50-57.
Kluger, Jeffrey. “Anatomy of an Outbreak.” Time 3 Aug. 1998:56-62.
Kluger, Jeffrey. “Forever Young?” Time 25 Nov. 1996:88-98.
Larson, Erik. “The Flu Hunters.” Time 23 Feb. 1998:54-64.
Lemonick, Michael D. “The Mood Molecule.” Time 29 Sept. 1997:75-82.
Nash, Madeleine J. “The Chemistry of Addiction.” 5 May 1997:68-76.
Nemeroff, Charles
B. “The Neurobiology of Depression.” Scientific American
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1998:42-49.