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The recent surge in peptide injections is a textbook example of a modern health craze. Crazes differ from fads in that the latter involve an intense but short-term interest in a trivial object or idea. Famous examples include the brief obsession with swallowing live goldfish, which swept college campuses in 1939, the hula-hoop in the late 1950s, and “pet rocks” in the mid-70s. Crazes are more serious and tend to persist longer – often for months and even years. Health crazes are especially common and usually fleeting, like the recent “Apple Diet,” which entails eating mostly apples for several days in a row. It “works” because severe caloric restriction induces rapid weight loss, but there are safer and more sustainable ways of achieving this.
While some peptides have been approved for specific conditions, others have not; regardless, all should be taken only under a physician’s supervision. Unfortunately, many people are ordering them online and administering them without medical oversight on the advice of fitness influencers and celebrity endorsements, few of whom have any medical training. Most are promoted to either accelerate weight loss, build muscle, or slow aging. Peptides are short chains of amino acids that can alter body chemistry and affect hormonal balance. Insulin, for example, is a peptide. The problem is that many of the products being sold are unregulated, and far more research is needed to understand their potential long-term health effects.
The Evolution of a Craze
Crazes never materialize out of thin air. Peptides are part of mainstream science and have been studied for decades. Researchers have long known they play a crucial role in metabolism and the release of growth hormones. During the 1990s, the anti-aging and longevity movement embraced their use as clinics began to offer so-called regenerative therapies with substances such as Thymosin alpha-1, even though the safety and effectiveness of such treatments remain largely unproven. Another foundation of the craze was the rise of bodybuilding and fitness coaches in the 1990s who promoted peptides as a safer alternative to anabolic steroids for building muscle.
More recently, peptides have been promoted by influencers, including a small number of outlier physicians with large followings who promote them as “too new for your GP” or “what elite sports figures are using.” Compounding this is the success of the peptide Ozempic (Semaglutide) for weight loss, which has produced a “halo effect” for other less-studied peptides. But Ozempic has undergone rigorous, large-scale randomized clinical trials and been approved as safe by the Food and Drug Administration. In contrast, many other peptides have no such validation, meaning that those taking them are effectively acting as human guinea pigs.
Health crazes flourish in an atmosphere of hope, urgency, and excitement, and derive their authority from grains of scientific truths used to legitimate the promise of miraculous results. Their appeal lies not in empirical evidence but in the seductive narrative that promises a “scientific breakthrough” that the experts are either ignoring, suppressing, or too slow to adopt. There is also an element of social contagion fueled by the popularity of wellness influencers and celebrities who hype anecdotal success stories while downplaying or ignoring health concerns. Above all, what is most alarming about the Pep-steria craze is that it highlights a growing shift away from institutional trust and conventional medicine, towards the unregulated influence of influencer culture.
