Kudos to Kevin at Siegels blog for finding this:
'Buyology: Truth and Lies About Why We Buy'
Updated Mon. Nov. 24 2008 6:49 AM ET
Heavily Snipped
For a long time, I'd noticed how the prominently placed health warnings on cigarette boxes seemed to have bizarrely little, if any, effect on smokers.
You'd think these graphic images would stop most smokers in their tracks. So why, in 2006, despite worldwide tobacco advertising bans, outspoken and frequent health warnings from the medical community, and massive government investment in antismoking campaigns, did global consumers continue to smoke a whopping 5,763 billion cigarettes, a figure which doesn't include duty-free cigarettes, or the huge international black market trade? (I was once in an Australian convenience store where I overheard the clerk asking a smoker, "Do you want the pack with the picture of the lungs, the heart, or the feet?" How often did this happen, I asked the clerk? Fifty percent of the time that customers asked for cigarettes, he told me.)
It makes no sense. Are smokers selectively blind to warning labels? Do they think, to a man or a woman, Yes, but I'm the exception here? Are they showing the world some giant act of bravado? Do they secretly believe they are immortal? Or do they know the health dangers and just not care?
That's what I was hoping to use fMRI technology to find out. The thirty-two smokers in today's study? They were among the 2,081 volunteers from America, England, Germany, Japan, and the Republic of China that I'd enlisted for the largest, most revolutionary neuromarketing experiment in history.
From Marlene's pretesting questionnaire and interview, I knew she was a recently divorced mother of two from Middlesex, and that she'd started smoking at boarding school fifteen years earlier. She thought of herself less as a nicotine addict than a "party smoker," that is, she smoked just a couple of "small" cigarettes during the day, as well as eight to ten more at night.
"Are you affected by the warnings on cigarette packs?" the questionnaire had asked.
"Yes," Marlene had written, twirling her pen around in her fingers as though she was about to ignite the thing.
"Are you smoking less as a consequence of these?"
Another yes. More pen-spinning. I've never been a smoker, but I felt for her.
Her interview answers were clear enough, but now it was time to interview her brain.
Marlene was in the scanner for a little over an hour. A small reflective apparatus resembling a car's rearview mirror projected a series of cigarette warning labels from various angles, one after another, on a nearby screen. Asked to rate her desire to smoke during this slideshow, Marlene signaled her responses by pressing down on what's known as a button box- a small black console resembling a hand-sized accordion-as each image flashed by.
We continued to perform brain scans on new subjects over the next month and a half.
Five weeks later, the team leader, Dr. Calvert, presented me with the results. I was, to put it mildly, startled. Even Dr. Calvert was taken aback by the findings: warning labels on the sides, fronts, and backs of cigarette packs had no effect on suppressing the smokers' cravings at all. Zero. In other words, all those gruesome photographs, government regulations, billions of dollars some 123 countries had invested in nonsmoking campaigns, all amounted, at the end of a day, to, well, a big waste of money.
"Are you sure?" I kept saying.
"Pretty damn certain," she replied, adding that the statistical validity was as solid as could be.
But this wasn't half as amazing as what Dr. Calvert discovered once she analyzed the results further. Cigarette warnings-whether they informed smokers they were at risk of contracting emphysema, heart disease, or a host of other chronic conditions-had in fact stimulated an area of the smokers' brains called the nucleus accumbens, otherwise known as "the craving spot." This region is a chain-link of specialized neurons that lights up when the body desires something-whether it's alcohol, drugs, tobacco, sex, or gambling. When stimulated, the nucleus accumbens requires higher and higher doses to get its fix.
In short, the fMRI results showed that cigarette warning labels not only failed to deter smoking, but by activating the nucleus accumbens, it appeared they actually encouraged smokers to light up. We couldn't help but conclude that those same cigarette warning labels intended to curb smoking, reduce cancer, and save lives had instead become a killer marketing tool for the tobacco industry.
Most of the smokers checked off yes when they were asked if warning labels worked-maybe because they thought it was the right answer, or what the researchers wanted to hear, or maybe because they felt guilty about what they knew smoking was doing to their health. But as Dr. Calvert concluded later, it wasn't that our volunteers felt ashamed about what smoking was doing to their bodies; they felt guilty that the labels stimulated their brains' craving areas. It was just that their conscious minds couldn't tell the difference. Marlene hadn't been lying when she filled out her questionnaire. But her brain-the ultimate no-bullshit zone-had adamantly contradicted her. Just as our brains do to each one of us every single day.