No More Tears: The Dark Secrets of Johnson & Johnson, by Gardiner Harris

Sleazier than you could possibly ever imagine

I’ve always been a little wary of Big Pharma. My partner has worked for a major pharmaceutical company for 24 years, and like most reasonably sentient adults, I’ve watched the Sackler/Purdue/OxyContin saga unfold in documentaries and courtroom dramas. I didn’t think much could shock me anymore.

I was wrong.

In No More Tears, investigative journalist Gardiner Harris dismantles the pristine, baby-soft reputation of Johnson & Johnson and reveals a corporate culture that repeatedly chose profits over patients. Yes, we all know about the talc-based baby powder. But it wasn’t just a product problem — it was asbestos. And they knew. Internal memos, court documents, FDA records — Harris builds his case meticulously. Nearly a third of the book is notes. This isn’t outrage theater; it’s documented history.

And baby powder is only the opening act.

Risperdal, pushed on children and the elderly despite known risks of gynecomastia in boys. Pelvic mesh that left women in chronic agony. Faulty hip implants. Procrit. The Duragesic fentanyl patch — J&J’s footprint in the opioid crisis arguably deeper than the names we usually blame. The pattern is depressingly consistent: aggressive marketing, strategic denial, settlements that amount to rounding errors in annual revenue, and a legal machine designed to outlast public memory.

To be fair, this is not a story of universally bad medicine. Many of J&J’s products are safe and effective. The company handled the 1982 Tylenol tampering crisis responsibly and pioneered tamper-proof packaging. That “halo effect” of trust became part of their brand. But Harris makes a compelling case that the slogan “People Before Profits” too often read like satire.

If you’re hoping the FDA will ride in on a white horse, temper your expectations. Regulatory capture, political donations, and revolving doors between industry and government feature prominently here.

This book left me feeling slimy — not because it’s sensationalist, but because it isn’t. It’s calm, organized, and relentlessly factual. And that may be the most disturbing part.

Read it. Just be prepared to be angry.