IIn April, at the TED conference in Vancouver, British Columbia, I saw a woman take several types of mushroom powder out of her bag, put them in a thermos and add hot water from a nearby tea station to make an earthy drink.
Intrigued, I asked her about her favorite health practices and she began to tell me about a recent trip to Costa Rica to undergo plasmapheresis.
“That’s when they take out your old plasma and replace it with new, fresh plasma,” she explained.
“Donated plasma?” I asked, imagining a commune of Bryan Johnson’s teenage sons, milked daily for vital proteins. But she said it had been synthetic plasma, a detox treatment intended to treat an autoimmune disease.
Plasmapheresis can effectively remove contaminants, such as some heavy metals, from the blood of people with specific health conditions, including autoimmune diseases, blood disorders, organ failure, and people who have recently had an organ transplant.
However, for healthy individuals, plasmapheresis cannot enhance the body’s natural detoxification processes, which are efficiently handled by the kidneys, liver, skin, lungs and other organs – for free. In addition, most of the heavy metals of concern accumulate in our organs and can only be removed in trace amounts via the blood.
Elective plasmapheresis for healthy people is yet another manifestation of the detox myth. Private clinics with varying degrees of oversight offer it, attracting wealthy medical tourists – even healthy ones.
In April 2023 Instagram post Speaking about her plasma detox treatment, former professional race car driver Danica Patrick described the $10,000 procedure as one that “cleanses most of the blood” and “removes metals and fungi.”
To illustrate, she holds up a bag of dark amber liquid. “The dark bag is my old plasma,” she writes.
Healthy plasma is the color of dark urine—and that’s perfectly normal. Patrick’s admittedly shocking report perpetuates the misconception that toxins in our bodies manifest as goop that we can cut through like grease in a dish soap commercial if we only had the right tools.
Tthat methods such as cleanses, juice fasts, supplements and saunas can detoxify the body is one of the most misleading wellness claims. “Detox” practices may feel good, have a place in one’s personal routine, lead to weight loss or create a placebo effect, but experts have repeatedly debunked claims that they meaningfully remove toxins from our bodies. In some cases, they may even do the opposite by harming our built-in detoxification systems; dietary supplements have been blamed for 20% of toxic liver damage in the U.S.
In addition to medical interventions prescribed for specific conditions, there are almost Nothing what we can do to help our bodies detoxify more effectively. Instead, it is good practice to stay hydrated, get plenty of rest, exercise, and maintain a good diet with a balanced diet that includes plenty of vitamin-rich plants, all of which support the function of our kidneys, liver, and other organs.
Yet the idea of cleansing our bodies has captured the public imagination for millennia. “We’ve been doing some form of detoxing since ancient times,” says Dr. Christopher Labos, a cardiologist, epidemiologist, and author of 2023’s Does Coffee Cause Cancer? And 8 More Myths About the Food We EatIt’s only with the development of modern medicine and germ theory that we’ve come to realize that “a lot of that detoxification reasoning is actually not true,” he says.
The current moment is no different. In fact, we may be talking about, believing in, and spending more money on detoxing than ever before. Research estimates The global market for detox wellness products will grow from $49 billion in 2019 to $80.4 billion in 2030. In 2018 alone, Americans spent more than $62 million about detox tea. And with “detoxify“Thestates that even basic products are sold at a higher price.
Social media is a breeding ground for detox content. TikTok has over 132 million to inform Use the hashtag #detox, describing in detail how you navel with castor oil or drink dangerous borax highballsInfluencers can generate income through affiliate links to questionable detox products on TikTok or Instagram. Users can grow their audience by sharing health “hacks” that range from useless to harmful, spreading their beliefs that lemon water has revolutionized their health or that most Americans have a stomach full of parasites.
Why are we so susceptible to detox claims? It doesn’t help that most detox gimmicks have a ring of logic to them that makes them psychologically appealing, even when they’re false (I once tried liquid chlorophyll because it seemed right that drinking pure green plant essence would improve my health). Nor that mainstream medical institutions make many people feel rejected, making them more receptive to unverified health advice.
Nearly a decade ago, German physician Edzard Ernst wrote in the Guardian that commercial detox products such as ready-made cleanses and tinctures were a “criminal exploitation of the gullible,” claiming they “promised a simple remedy that would free us from our sins.”
“When most of us say the word ‘detox,’ it’s usually when we’re seeing blurry and coming off the wrong end of a heavy weekend,” the article states, and it’s true that online searches for “detox” are reliable golf in January, after weeks of holiday excesses.
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It’s easy to see hordes of hangover sufferers desperate for a quick fix, wellness fanatics who appropriate cultural traditions or those whose health consciousness has turned into a conspiracy mania.
But in general, people who want to detox seem to just want to take good care of their bodies.
This is a reasonable wish, especially in light of our growing understanding of the many pollutants in our environments and bodies. Recent research into microplastic, PFASpersistent organic pollutants (POPs), hormone disruptors and air pollution paint a disturbing picture of how contact with everyday products and pollutants can harm us.
Even traditionally virtuous behavior can cause health problems. Last year, researchers discovered PFAS in most American kale; organic kale actually harbors more of the chemical than its conventionally grown counterparts. A recent study by researchers from Ocean Conservancy and the University of Toronto found microplastic particles in 88% of protein sources, including seafood, beef, chicken and tofu. Millions of Americans have unsafe drinking water. A growing body of research is investigating how we can absorb harmful chemicals from synthetic clothing, such as yoga pants, through our skin, especially when we exercise and sweat. When even flossing our teeth carries the risk of exposure to harmful chemicals, and the question of how to do the right thing seems impossible to answer.
WWhile there is some early research into effective ways to remove plastics and chemicals from our bodies, we have woefully few solutions beyond reducing our exposure to harmful substances. This lack of recourse only exacerbates the fundamental, collective sense of powerlessness and betrayal, compounded by the longstanding injustice of marginalized communities who disproportionately bear the burden of toxic exposures for decades.
Labos emphasizes that people should have access to quality medical care above all, so that their medical questions can be answered by trusted experts. In addition, a solid scientific education is of the utmost importance to help people understand why detox products often do not work as the marketing suggests.
Buying a detox supplement over the counter is “clearly much more appealing and easier to understand than the real solution” to the pollution that plagues us, says Labos. But by focusing on largely futile attempts to cleanse our individual bodies, we’re allowing the burden of detoxification to fall on the industry, rather than addressing the root cause of pollution. “The real solution to pollution is to stop polluting the air and the water,” he says. “We need to pass legislation to address these problems in the same way we addressed ozone depletion,” he says. “We’ve solved similar problems before. We just need to do it again.”
If we were to view detoxification as prevention at the source, we could redirect the energy and emotion we expend buying and trying products and treatments toward collective demands for harm reduction. We could stop trying to cleanse our colons and focus on imposing stricter regulations on the companies that treat our environment like a toilet. We could save money on liquid chlorophyll and support government spending on PFAS elimination instead in waterways.
“Anyone who says, ‘I’m on a detox treatment’ is profiting from a false claim and is, by definition, a fraud,” Ernst proclaimed in the Guardian 10 years ago. But our willingness to embrace wishful thinking and wellness trends isn’t criminal; it’s understandable. Still, if we’re going to cleanse pollution, our efforts must extend beyond the body—that’s our bitter pill to swallow.