Chalk it up to Movember, a global charity event that invites men to grow mustaches during November to raise awareness and money for men’s health. According to the website, the initiative had more than 854,000 participants – they’re known as “Mo Bros” – worldwide last year and raised $126 million on behalf of prostate and testicular cancer.
Well, fair enough. After all, the entire month of October is devoted to breast cancer awareness and fundraising and all things pink. Maybe it’s time men had their own health month.
But the critics are cautioning: Don’t be too quick to get behind this health campaign without asking more questions about what’s really being accomplished.
What is the substance behind the “awareness” the Movember campaign says it promotes? Take a look at the list of Movember health tips, which include a recommendation to get an annual physical: “Getting annual checkups, preventative screening tests and immunizations are among the most important things you can do to stay healthy.” Nary a mention is made of the debate surrounding the value of the yearly physical exam. Nor is there discussion about the risks vs. the benefits of prostate cancer screening, an issue that’s of considerable controversy amongst the medical and scientific community, or how men can weigh the evidence to make appropriate, informed decisions.
Another health checklist on the website advises men 40 and older to talk to their doctor about the use of aspirin and statins to lower their risk of heart disease, even though the preventive benefit of these two therapies has not been clearly established in people who don’t have existing heart disease.
Most would agree men are well served by education that gives them accurate, realistic information about their health. Are they served as well by information that’s overly simplified or that fails to adequately convey evidence-based pros and cons? Or by messages that confuse screening with prevention?
Perhaps the bigger issue is whether Movember, which started out with good intentions, is turning into a gimmick that allows people to feel good about a cause merely by growing a mustache and donating a few dollars.
Blogger Ashley Ashbee calls it “a type of slacktivism.”
“Does your moustache share information about the importance of screening, or where to get screened?” she wrote last year. “Does it tell you how you can prevent prostate cancer (if you even can)? Does it tell you the symptoms? Does it tell you who’s affected?”
Moreover, critics say one of the flaws of catchy public awareness campaigns, whether they’re exemplified by mustaches or by pink ribbons, is that they can skew the public’s perspective about risk and disease and lead to inaccurate or exaggerated beliefs that sometimes spill over into health-related behaviors. Although prostate cancer is far and away the most commonly diagnosed type of cancer among men in the United States, it’s actually lung cancer that is responsible for the most cancer deaths in men. Heart disease continues to be a significant health risk for men and, many would say, is the leading male health issue. Men also outnumber women when it comes to alcoholism, fatal traffic crashes and suicide.
To their credit, the Movember organizers added men’s mental health this year to their list of causes. But whether this helps improve the public’s understanding about male health remains to be seen.
The Toronto Globe and Mail spoke last week to medical ethicist Kerry Bowman of the University of Toronto, who lamented, “There’s not a direct relationship between the diseases we hear most about and either their occurrence in society or the lethality and the amount of suffering they create.”
Ideally, there should be a form of “ethical triage” that helps the public be better informed about the most widespread and urgent health care needs before donating their money to a cause, Bowman said. But for most fundraising campaigns, this kind of analysis is “very much lost,” he said.