Of course, I do not forget the lessons…
Of course, I do not forget the lessons etched in the tablets of great PR practice. After all, I’m now a vintage publicist. Few today might recall the great Tylenol meltdown, but as the brand once again faces an existential threat, it’s worth remembering what time forgot.
Back in 1982, when America woke to the horror of cyanide-laced Tylenol capsules, it caused several deaths. Johnson & Johnson’s response was canonised as the gold standard of crisis management. A swift recall, tamper-proof packaging, and a CEO who spoke with confident purpose, a leader who understood the nation’s fear was bigger than the balance sheet. And crucially, there were only three major commercial broadcast networks in the US—ABC, CBS, and NBC. The “Big Three.” A handful of heavyweight papers. A press conference still had weight; a steady voice could reach a nation.
Sturdy communications of the 80s cut through because the public still believed that common sense and a straight-talking corporate leader just might be telling them the truth.
Fast forward to 2025. Enter Donald J. Trump, wading into a new Tylenol storm after presidentially declaring, “Taking Tylenol is not good. I’ll say it. It’s not good.” At the White House, no less. He claimed a link between common over-the-counter painkillers and autism, contradicting every major medical group. It isn’t even original; it’s a reheated anti-vax myth, part of the fantasy that the Amish, supposedly untouched by modern medicine, have no autism. It’s been debunked endlessly, but in the post-truth carnival, evidence never kills a good scare story.
Here’s the rub: in 1982, you could calm panic with facts and firm leadership. In 2025, one conspiracy-laden soundbite metastasises across TikTok, Telegram channels and a thousand fever-swamp subreddits before the brand can even draft a holding line. This is the post-vax, post-truth, post-common-sense era. Every recall is “proof” of guilt to one silo, while another swears it’s a Big Pharma cover-up. Tamper-proof seals? Brushed off as theatre. Safety campaigns? Drowned in memes and conspiracies. The brand isn’t addressing “the public” anymore because there isn’t one. There are tribes, echo chambers, algorithmic fiefdoms. And once again, the sharks circle. Lawyers, consultants, “fixers,” and reputation ambulance-chasers all feed on panic, billing in six-minute increments while the brand sinks in digital quicksand.
The old Tylenol case once stood for the idea that trust could be rebuilt. Today, it proves that trust itself has been poisoned. The gold standard is gone. There’s no clean redemption arc, only survival, if you’re lucky, in a landscape where outrage spreads faster than cyanide ever did.
Footage of the most powerful man on the planet wandering into a press conference, recycling anti-vax folklore and riffing like some deranged game-show host. This is the theatre we’re left with: brands helplessly messaging in a sea of noise, while memes eat them alive.