To some smokers, a chemical additive called menthol is like honey in their tea, cream in their coffee or sugar on their grapefruit.
It mellows the flavor of some brands of cigarettes and heightens their appeal, especially to African American smokers.
Money seems to serve much the same soothing effect, coaxing a number of black elected leaders and organizations to remain largely silent on the deadly costs of smoking — or deny them outright.
Sweet nothings in the form of grants, campaign donations, advertising and sponsorships.
Smoking-related illnesses are the largest cause of preventable death among black Americans, who account for 88 percent of menthol smokers. Menthol cigarettes also are attractive to smokers younger than 18, 57 percent of whom prefer those brands.
All of this hits uncomfortably close to home. A menthol cigarette called Newport was the most popular brand for the company formerly known as Lorillard and formerly headquartered in Greensboro. Menthol products accounted for 85 percent of Lorillard’s sales. Now Newport belongs to Reynolds American, which bought Lorillard for $27.4 billion in 2014, and has pinned high hopes on the brand.
New company. Same health threat. “Menthol has no redeeming value other than to make the poison go down more easily,” the American Journal of Public Health says.
The FDA has considered banning menthol, but has moved sluggishly on the issue, thanks in part to legal challenges from tobacco companies.
You would think that would have attracted the full attention and concern of, say, the Congressional Black Caucus Health Braintrust. But in a 144-page report titled “Health Disparities in America,” the Braintrust delves in great detail into such problems as obesity, HIV, lupus and gun violence, but barely mentions tobacco.
As the news reporting nonprofit FairWarning noted in Wednesday’s News & Record, tobacco companies are using big checkbooks and aggressive lobbying to keep sales strong among black consumers. This includes donations to the NAACP, United Negro College Fund, National Urban League and Congressional Black Caucus. During the 2013-14 election cycle, North Carolina Congressman G.K. Butterfield, who is chairman of the Black Caucus, received $5,000 from Lorillard. Others received more. Lorillard gave Rep. James Clyburn of South Carolina $2,000 and his PAC another $5,000. Altria, the parent company of the tobacco giant Philip Morris, gave Clyburn’s PAC $10,000.
In 2013 and 2014, FairWarning reports, Altria annually gave between $100,000 and $249,000 to the Black Caucus Foundation. An arm of Reynolds American gave between $5,000 and $15,000.
Maybe this explains the hazy rhetoric from some black leaders. For instance, in a fantastical leap of reasoning, a past president of the National Association of Black Law Enforcement Officers argued that banning menthol would add a burden on law enforcement and would disproportionately harm minorities because “the majority of menthol smokers are minorities.”
In an ad in black newspapers, the industry huffed and puffed on its own behalf, couching the marketing and sales of menthol cigarettes as a civil rights issue. “Some self-appointed activists have proposed a legislative ban on menthol cigarettes in a misguided effort to force people to quit smoking by limiting their choices,” an ad from Lorillard says. “The history of African-Americans in this country has been one of fighting against paternalistic limitations and for freedoms.”
Lorillard shall overcome.
It’s hard to decide which is more harmful and disingenuous: the industry’s lobbying and marketing efforts to keep hope alive for menthol. Or the self-serving decisions by some black “leaders” to look the other way.
