A new campaign across mainstream media declares: Obesity is a disease. The visuals are stark, people with severe, morbid obesity struggling with mobility. The tone resembles a public service announcement. Viewers are encouraged to consult a doctor.

At one level, the message is medically valid. Obesity is recognised as a chronic disease by global health authorities. Recent GLP-1 medications have brought relief to many people with severe obesity. For some, these treatments have been life-changing.

Yet something about the campaign feels incomplete.

It does not clearly explain that such medications are prescribed under specific clinical criteria, typically for severe obesity, often with related health risks. It does not distinguish between being overweight, being clinically obese, and meeting the threshold for pharmacological intervention. The overall message remains broad and emotionally resonant: obesity is a disease and there is treatment.

The campaign is backed by one of the world’s largest manufacturers of weight-loss drugs.That does not automatically make the message suspect. But it does make scrutiny necessary. When a pharmaceutical company funds an 'awareness' campaign about a condition for which it sells treatment, where does public health messaging end and market expansion begin?

Calling obesity a disease has helped counter stigma. For years, people in larger bodies have been ridiculed, stereotyped and blamed. Recognising biological complexity was an important corrective to the simplistic idea that weight is merely a matter of willpower.

But obesity does not arise from biology alone. It is shaped by how we now live, long sedentary workdays, disrupted sleep cycles, ultra-processed food environments, unsafe urban spaces, polluted air and chronic stress. When these conditions are widespread, weight gain becomes more common. In such a context, presenting medication as the most appropriate solution risks narrowing the conversation. It shifts attention away from the systems that make healthy living difficult in the first place.

Disease-awareness campaigns are powerful instruments. They do not need to name a product to influence behaviour. By broadening identification with a condition, they expand the number of people who may begin to see themselves as potential patients.

When extreme imagery is used but eligibility thresholds are not clearly explained, viewers can easily over-identify. The line between severe medical need and ordinary body anxiety begins to blur.

Recently, after watching one of these advertisements, a young woman remarked, “I think I should go for the injection to get rid of my tummy.” She is not even overweight. She does not meet any clinical criteria for medical treatment. Yet the message had already shifted how she saw her body, from something within the range of normal variation to something that might require medical correction.

This is not misinformation in the narrow sense. It is selective emphasis. And when the sponsor stands to benefit commercially from increased diagnosis and treatment, that selectivity matters.

It is possible to welcome medical innovation and still feel uneasy about how it is being communicated.

Mainstream media platforms are not passive carriers of such campaigns. When messaging adopts the tone of public service communication, audiences assume neutrality. If funding sources and clinical boundaries are not made sufficiently clear, awareness becomes advertising.

Medication can offer real relief, especially for those whose health and quality of life are severely compromised. But it cannot redesign cities, regulate labour patterns, restructure food systems or make healthier choices easier for young people navigating stressful, sedentary lives

Obesity is serious. Treatment has its place. But public health communication should clarify, not blur. If campaigns do not clearly distinguish between medical need and general body anxiety, they risk widening a market rather than deepening understanding.

That is not merely a medical concern. It is a media ethics question too. 

(The author is former director, Population First.)