If you want to understand where American healthcare, advertising, and culture are colliding in real time, you could do worse than watching the Super Bowl. For decades, the game’s commercials have been a mirror of American priorities, from beer and cars to dotcoms and smartphones. Over the past decade, prescription drug companies have increasingly muscled their way into the field. What used to be an occasional novelty has become a full-blown marketing strategy, with pharmaceutical giants paying top dollar to pitch treatments to more than 100 million viewers at once.
In an environment where figures like Secretary of Health and Human Services (HHS) Robert F. Kennedy Jr. have helped spark broader public reflection on health and wellness, it’s perhaps not surprising that advertising in this space has drawn a bit more regulatory attention. Last year, some companies promoting health products during the Super Bowl received inquiries from the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) about whether their ads provided enough medical context alongside their promotional appeal.
The conversation was less about the act of advertising itself and more about presentation. When potential risks and side effects are not communicated as clearly as benefits, consumers may not always get the fullest picture. In healthcare, a fuller context can be helpful as people weigh personal medical choices.
This is where the FDA’s renewed focus on direct-to-consumer drug advertising matters. Under Commissioner Marty Makary, the agency has signaled that the era of wink-and-nod pharmaceutical marketing may be ending. The law has long required a fair balance between benefits and risks in prescription drug ads, but enforcement intensity can vary by era and leadership. Recently, the FDA has made clear that it intends to take a harder look at whether flashy ads are meeting the spirit, not just the letter, of the rules.
Super Bowl LIX has become an early test of that posture. The lineup of advertisers includes some of the biggest names in the booming market for GLP-1 drugs used for diabetes and weight loss. Novo Nordisk and Eli Lilly have poured enormous sums into promoting their products to the public. Ro has also entered the arena with celebrity-driven messaging designed to normalize these medications.
There is nothing inherently wrong with informing patients about legitimate therapies. The problem arises when complex medical decisions are compressed into 30 seconds of aspirational storytelling. A drug that can be life-changing for one patient won’t necessarily be appropriate for another.
These are decisions meant to be made in consultation with clinicians who understand a patient’s history, not on a couch between a nacho bite and a touchdown replay.
Against that backdrop, companies have adjusted their play calling. Hims and Hers came onto the field last year with its Super Bowl advertising and faced the brunt of the FDA’s offensive against healthcare advertising. It took a notably different approach this year. Its Super Bowl messaging leans into the human experience of navigating the healthcare system rather than presenting medication as a hero or quick fix. The focus is on access, affordability, and the friction people feel when trying to get care.
That distinction matters as some of their competitors seem to have not gotten the message from the FDA. Hims and Hers is not pushing pills. It is a platform that connects patients with licensed clinicians who then decide what, if anything, to prescribe. By emphasizing the pathway to care rather than pushing medicines haphazardly, the company is at least attempting to align itself with the FDA’s broader message that healthcare decisions should be grounded in professional judgment and patient-specific needs.
This shift also lands in a cultural moment of growing skepticism about over-medicalization. Many Americans feel that too many aspects of normal life have been turned into conditions requiring prescriptions. Others worry about the influence of marketing on what should be sober clinical choices. Direct-to-consumer pharmaceutical advertising has long been controversial for this reason. The United States is one of the few countries that allows it at scale, and critics across the political spectrum have questioned whether it drives demand in ways that inflate costs and distort priorities.
None of this means that drug ads should be banned or that innovation should be stifled. It does mean that guardrails are not the enemy of progress. In sports terms, rules do not ruin the game; they make fair competition possible. Without referees, you do not get a better contest; you get chaos. The FDA’s role is not to bench innovation but to make sure the game is played honestly, with patients’ welfare in mind.
Commissioner Makary deserves credit for taking the issue seriously. A regulator who ignores misleading promotion is not pro-consumer or pro-market. Clear standards and consistent enforcement can actually support a healthier marketplace by rewarding companies that compete on real value rather than on who can produce the most emotionally persuasive commercial.
For pharmaceutical giants, the Super Bowl will likely remain too attractive to ignore. The audience is simply too large and too diverse. But the lesson of the past year is that the biggest stage in American advertising also brings the brightest spotlight. Companies that treat it as a free-for-all risk reputational and regulatory consequences. Those that adapt may find that credibility with consumers and regulators is a long-term asset.
The broader question is what kind of healthcare culture Americans want. One where medicine is marketed like soda, or one where advertising informs but does not overwhelm judgment. The early signs from this year’s Super Bowl suggest at least some players are reading the room.
Julio Rivera is a business and political strategist and a political commentator and columnist. His writing, which is focused on politics and business, is regularly published by many of the largest news organizations in the world.