The opioid in the room
In politics and in pharma, as in life itself, the forbidden fruit of instant gratification is ubiquitous and, even knowing about the acridity beneath its shallow veneer, we so often make ourselves oblivious to its deadly presence.
Our eyes are seduced – they start rotating like kaleidoscopic spiralled lollies at a hypnotic fairground – and, at that crucial moment, all we can see is colour such as no palette has ever hosted before.
Opting for the radiance of the moment rather than the clarity of consequence happens when people are convinced by economic ignition or deafening applause or an untouchable conviction in themselves to make decisions.
And these judgements unfold in a portal that exists outside common knowledge, involving things that are embarrassingly obvious to literally everyone else.
But the forbidden fruit starts to rot at extraordinary speed. The primrose path that Peter Mandelson and Keir Starmer skipped down is now a burnt-out wasteland dotted with dystopian signs that hint at the horror.
Pharma has its own history. Opioids, without due care, can quickly emerge as the Mandelson of the medicine cabinet. A way to ‘get in there’, appear to expunge the pain, before becoming seemingly indispensable.
Life sciences wider history shows that a positive legacy happens when you don’t get distracted by a low-hanging crowd-pleaser but when data, trials and patients combine to big up life in a way that inspires delight not disdain.
Enjoy the mag,
John Pinching
editor
