by Allan Brandt
By 1954, filters made up approximately 10 percent of the cigarette market. The number would approach 90 percent by the mid-1970s. At the same time that the tobacco industry continued to insist there was no credible scientific evidence of the harmfulness of smoking, it nonetheless undertook major campaigns to develop and market cigarettes whose main selling point was that they kept harmful substances out of smokers’ lungs. The industry understood that in the face of the mounting scientific evidence, smokers needed many kinds of reassurance. It might come in the notion that there was a “controversy” about whether or not smoking was dangerous; or it might come in the notion that filters effectively eliminated those dangers.
It became clear early on, given the media prominence of concerns about smoking and lung cancer, that filters were a critical new marketing tool. Yet industry researchers always knew that filters projected an image of safety, rather than a reality. In December 1953, as Hill & Knowlton took the public relations helm, chemist Claude Teague filed a “disclosure of invention” with the directors of his research laboratory at R.J. Reynolds. Teague had found that varying the pH in test filters led to changes in their color upon smoking. “I have observed, and believe it to be generally true,” he wrote, “that the cigarette smoking public attaches great significance to visual examination of the filter material in filter tip cigarettes after smoking the cigarettes. A before and after smoking visual comparison is usually made and if the filter tip material, after smoking is darkened, the tip is automatically judged to be effective.” Teague, therefore, recommended altering the pH to ensure that filters darkened upon smoking. He concluded, “While the use of such color change material would probably have little or no effect on the actual efficiency of the filter tip material, the advertising and sales advantages are obvious.”12 As Myron Johnston and W. L. Dunn of Philip Morris would later note, “the illusion of filtration is as important as the fact of filtration.”13
By introducing a range of filtered products and explicitly claiming that they reduced tar and nicotine, the industry promoted the notion that its product not only could be successfully modified but had been. This approach—meticulously designed and implemented—proved remarkably successful.14 It appealed to the hopes of smokers eager to maintain a highly addictive behavior and embraced the allure, in a technological age, of a technological fix.15 If and when a harmful substance was identified in cigarette smoke, the companies promised, they would simply remove it. “Well, obviously, a filter takes out certain tar and nicotine. I don’t think the industry admits that there are any bad elements. If there are bad elements, through our laboratories, through the surgeon general, through the AMA, through acts of God, and luck, we hope we may find them, and if they are found they will be removed, but at this point we don’t know,” explained Hugh Cullman, president of the Tobacco Merchants Association and director of Philip Morris.16 Tobacco Institute President James Richards noted that “the production and marketing of filter cigarets are matters of individual company competitive business. Anyone familiar with the tobacco industry knows that tobacco manufacturers constantly compete to make products to please customers.”17 The rise of filters simply followed “consumer preferences.” It had nothing to do with consumer fears of a threat the companies would not admit existed.
The competitive introduction of new brands in the late 1950s and early 1960s, often called the “tar derby,” produced claim and counterclaim among the tobacco companies and eventually drew the attention of Congress and federal regulators.18 Questions of public interest and regulation rose to the fore. What was actually being filtered out? Could it be measured? Did filters really reduce the harms of smoking? How and why were the manufacturers modifying their product, and how were they assessing these changes?
In 1957, Minnesota Congressman John A. Blatnik, chairman of the Legal and Monetary Affairs Subcommittee of the House Government Operations Committee, held hearings on filtered cigarettes to investigate whether the FTC was properly policing cigarette advertising. Witnesses told the committee that filtered cigarettes typically delivered tar and nicotine content similar to (in some cases greater than) unfiltered brands, and that companies had often increased levels of tar and nicotine as they introduced filters. This despite advertisements with lines like “Just what the doctor ordered!” Blatnik, a regular smoker, halved his smoking following the hearings.19 The Report of the Hearings concluded that “the cigarette manufacturers have deceived the American public through their advertising of cigarettes.”20 Shortly after the hearings ended, Blatnik reflected that “much of current cigarette advertising is misleading the public into thinking that it is getting a protection which really isn’t there. And the principal device that is used is the filter tip.”21 Following the hearings, the notion of warning labels on cigarettes began to attract proponents. At the very least, it was now argued, the industry should be required to alert consumers to the “potential” risks associated with their product.22
The only representative from the industry to appear before the committee was none other than the industry’s perennial spokesman, C. C. Little, who claimed that he did not represent the industry but rather the “independent” committee. He insisted he had no knowledge whatsoever of the science of filters. A “man of science,” Little had no patience for the committee and its questions, which he deemed irrelevant. Since cigarettes had not been demonstrated to pose risks to smokers, he asked, why even address the question of filters? The popular interest in filters was the fault of the American Cancer Society, which he accused of alarming the American public unnecessarily.23 Time found it “surprising” that Little had claimed to know nothing about filters one way or the other.24 Little wrote to Editor-in-Chief Henry Luce, protesting the coverage. He explained, “It’s not really ‘surprising’ . . . that industry problems such as filters are and will remain outside [the TIRC’s] field unless and until there is scientific evidence of something that needs to be filtered. Such evidence does not exist today.”25 Luce, amused by Little’s defensiveness, shot back a rejoinder: “A witness so distinguished as yourself who voluntarily takes the stand and professes innocence of—and indifference to—the subject in question, becomes, I believe, an object of legitimate surprise to any thoughtful reporter.” He reviewed the publications of the TIRC, taking issue with Little’s claim that “cigarette filters [are] irrelevant to the research program,” and noting: “One other point in your letter, which was not in your testimony in such concise terms, is quite striking. I refer to your statement that there is no scientific evidence that anything needs to be filtered from cigarettes. Too bad that quote couldn’t have been in Time’s story.”26
Even though tobacco companies aggressively marketed filtered cigarettes, they refused to acknowledge that cigarettes were harmful. Crucial to avoiding regulatory interventions was the campaign for scientific “controversy” developed with such skill by Hill & Knowlton. The industry therefore insisted on an agnostic position. Regulatory action on tobacco during the 1950s foundered on the shoals of the widely promoted “uncertainties” of the harms of the cigarette not fully legitimated until the 1964 surgeon general’s report. In this respect, the TIRC public relations activities had the additional function of diverting public health and other potential regulatory action. If the harms of smoking were “unknown”—as the industry so persistently and publicly claimed—the potential for political action was decidedly limited.
Following the Blatnik hearings, the limits of the FTC to regulate tobacco advertising became explicit. The Food, Drug, and Cosmetic Act of 1938 had provided the FTC with additional authority—including the right to obtain court injunctions—to regulate the claims on food, pharmaceuticals and medical devices, and cosmetics, but with tobacco outside this mandate, the FTC claims were constrained. While the 1955 rules had forbidden advertisements featuring unvalidated figures on tar and nicotine content, ultimately the FTC would ban the publication of these numbers irrespective of their apparent validation. In 1960, the FTC issued new ru
les in an attempt to address widespread concern that the “tar derby” had created the impression among the public that lower numbers meant a safer product. According to the FTC, tar or nicotine levels were unsubstantiated “health claims” that now must be eliminated from all tobacco promotion.27
According to FTC Chair Earl W. Kintner, the claims about tar and nicotine content “were confusing to the public and possibly misleading,” given that there were no uniform testing methods and no proof “of the advantage to the smoker.” He encouraged the companies to end the “tar derby.” To demonstrate that a company had a “safer” cigarette would require the companies to acknowledge precisely what they refused to: that there were serious problems with the product. Kintner was pleased that the industry had apparently agreed on a voluntary basis to eliminate the questionable tar and nicotine data. FTC monitors, however, found that despite the February 1, 1960, deadline, some ads continued to make excessive claims. On behalf of Brown & Williamson, for example, a television announcer proclaimed that Viceroy “does the best filtering job in the world.”28
To have any hope of implementing effective regulation, the FTC needed a definitive scientific statement. The surgeon general’s 1964 report provided it. With this confirmation of the harms of smoking, it was now widely perceived within the FTC that their regulatory authority over the packaging and marketing of cigarettes could, at last, be sustained. As the surgeon general’s committee had gone about its business, so too had an eager FTC. If, as Terry’s panel had so authoritatively concluded, smoking causes lung cancer and other serious diseases, then specific approaches to regulatory action would be appropriate. On the day the report was released, the FTC announced that it would move “promptly”—and within its authority—to address the regulatory needs inherent in the findings.29
Now under the direction of Kennedy appointee Paul Rand Dixon, the FTC moved with what one commentator called “lightning speed for a federal agency” to consolidate its regulatory authority over tobacco in the wake of the surgeon general’s report.30 In the week following the release of the report, it unveiled a new set of proposed rules requiring warnings on all packs and all advertisements and called for public hearings to review the proposed labels. While this action drew support from public health groups and the voluntary health organizations, such as the American Cancer Society, the industry and its allies in Congress began preparing their defense.31 There was already in place a strong contingent of legislators from tobacco-growing states ready to oppose any measures that might negatively impact the industry and the tobacco farmers. The proposed FTC regulations also illuminated critical tensions within the federal bureaucracy. The U.S. Department of Agriculture—which administered the tobacco price support program for farmers—weighed in heavily against any health warnings on packages.32 The USDA had long-standing ties to tobacco farmers, their congressional representatives, and the industry. The department clearly understood that their future congressional support was dependent on sustaining these alliances. The industry quickly became expert in assisting the tobacco farming community in their opposition to regulation.33
The industry found another strong ally in organized medicine. Concerns about pending health legislation and other potential professional regulations led the American Medical Association (AMA) to resist taking any position on the harms of smoking.34 Following the release of the surgeon general’s report, the tobacco industry offered the AMA’s Education Research Fund an initial grant of $10 million to conduct further research.35 This contribution led to the view, heartily endorsed in the industry, that “more research” was needed. The AMA was eager not to alienate those tobacco-state congressmen and senators whose votes would be needed in their efforts to defeat Medicare and Medicaid. When the FTC proposed warning labels, Dr. F. J. L. Blasingame, chief executive of the AMA, wrote that they were “likely to be ignored”; instead, he explained, “it is our opinion that the answer that will do most to protect the public health lies not in labeling . . . but in research.” In a letter published in JAMA, Blasingame explained:More than 90 million persons in the United States use tobacco in some form; and, of these, 72 million use cigarettes. Long standing social customs and practices are established in the use of tobacco; the economic lives of tobacco growers, processors, and merchants are entwined in the industry; and local, state, and federal governments are the recipients of and dependent upon many millions of dollars of tax revenue. For these reasons, it is most appropriate that a subject of this magnitude, regarding the labeling and advertising of tobacco, be controlled by the Congress of the United States in the form of enacted legislation, if any, rather than promulgated administrative regulations.36
Journalists Drew Pearson and Jack Anderson would call the AMA- tobacco industry connection, “the weirdest lobbying alliance in legislative history. . . . The doctors were more concerned about Medicare, which they fancied as a threat to their fees, than about the threat to the nation’s lungs.”37
In March 1964, the FTC held hearings in which the full range of industry and public health interests were heard, and on June 27, it issued new trade regulation rules.38 The FTC contended that given the surgeon general’s findings, tobacco companies would be engaging in “an unfair or deceptive act” (explicitly following the FTC’s statutory mandate) if they did not disclose on both packages and in ads: “Caution: cigarette smoking is dangerous to health and may cause death from cancer and other diseases.”39 According to its ruling, such warnings would be uniformly required as of January 1, 1965. After decades of sporadic, weak attempts to police tobacco advertising campaign by campaign, the FTC had thrown down the regulatory gauntlet.
The companies answered with a meticulously prepared set of counter-maneuvers. Since the late 1950s, the industry had been building the Tobacco Institute into a considerable force for political lobbying, in order to address a growing concern among the company CEOs that the TIRC was not mounting a vigorous and effective response to the ongoing “attacks” on their product. As R.J. Reynolds President E. A. Darr explained in a 1957 letter to his counterpart Paul Hahn at American Tobacco:It now appears . . . that the tobacco industry should go on the offensive in bringing the truth about cigarette smoking to the public. The only way to destroy a lie is to correct it with the truth. . . . Certainly, no one can question the necessity of our going on the offensive without delay.”40
John Hill advised the establishment of another unit, separate from the TIRC, that would explicitly act as a trade association for the industry’s growing political and PR needs. After all, the TIRC had been explicitly developed to sustain claims of independence, commitment to science, and pursuit of the “truth” about tobacco. Its credibility and influence rested on the perception of restraint and a narrow scientific mission. As Carl Thompson of Hill & Knowlton explained in a confidential memo, “A flamboyant campaign against the anti-smoking propagandists would unquestionably alienate much of the support of the moderates in both scientific and lay publics.” Moreover, the scientists whom Hill & Knowlton had recruited to serve on the TIRC’s Scientific Advisory Board had expressed repeated concerns about the board’s independence and their personal credibility among scientific peers. Thompson urged that TIRC stay the course.41 In the words of an industry attorney, “the creation of a separate organization for public information was hit upon as a way of keeping Little inviolate and untainted in his ivory tower while giving a new group a little more freedom of action in the public relations field.”42
This approach would protect the PR “capital” invested in the TIRC while creating an unencumbered unit that could conduct both political lobbying and a more aggressive brand of public relations. Freed of the constraint of the TIRC’s “scientific mission,” Hill & Knowlton worked to create a state-of-the-art political and PR operation to address the regulatory initiatives on the horizon in the wake of the Blatnik hearings. After its founding in 1958, the Tobacco Institute quickly emerged as one of Washington’s most powerful and effective political lobbies. Just as
the industry had made critical innovations in advertising and public relations, so now it pioneered new and aggressive approaches to managing its regulatory and political environment.
In 1964, utilizing a combination of skills, resources, and Washington insiders, the Tobacco Institute assiduously prepared for the political fights that would follow in the wake of the surgeon general’s report. The institute anticipated that the ground on which the tobacco wars were fought would shift from the scientific realm to the political. Certainly, these battles would engage scientific questions, but Congress, not the medical journals, would be the new primary site of conflict. It was terrain that greatly favored the tobacco industry.
In September and October 1964, Sir Philip J. Rogers and Geoffrey F. Todd, senior officials of the British Tobacco Research Council, conducted a comprehensive tour of the American tobacco industry, meeting with the heads of the major companies, the research directors, and the legal teams formulating tobacco policy. In a confidential report filed upon their return to Great Britain, the two men offered a candid analysis of the policy dilemmas now facing the American companies following the release of the surgeon general’s report.