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Over the holidays, like many of us, my email inbox was flooded with the usual seasonal e-commerce mix: discounts, bundles, last-chance offers, loyalty points and a bevy of other nudges. But woven into that noise I happened to notice something different -- and something that was surprisingly effective. Several companies I had recently purchased from chose not to sell me anything at all. Instead, they reminded me why they exist.
Not their product features. Not their promotions. Their purpose.
A workwear company explaining why trade professionals deserve better gear. A knife manufacturer walking through its founding story and commitment to craftsmanship. These messages were short, skimmable, and easy to ignore; but I didn’t ignore them. And more importantly, the more I thought about it and internalized these messages, I noticed how they changed -- enhanced actually -- how I felt about the products I already owned.
The shift I observed and felt, to me, was instructive. And worth writing about.
In biopharma, we talk about purpose constantly. It’s reinforced from the leadership podiums, embedded in onboarding and training, and carefully articulated in ESG reports and corporate communications. Over time, phrases like “patients first” have become so familiar, and so frequently repeated, that they risk blending into the background of our corporate vernacular rather than shaping daily behavior -- or, more importantly, external perception.
What distinguishes many consumer goods companies -- and what stood out in several of the emails I noticed over the holidays -- is that purpose is not treated as an abstract value. It is framed as a response to a specific frustration, injustice, or unmet need. TRUEWERK is a useful example. The company was not founded to “innovate apparel,” but to solve a very real problem: skilled professionals working in demanding outdoor conditions were being asked to tolerate outdated, underperforming gear. The result is not just a compelling origin story, but products that clearly reflect that founding intent. I spend a lot of time outdoors -- exercising, hiking, walking my dogs -- and I can attest to the fact that TRUEWERK has mastered keeping your warm when it's super cold.
A similar pattern emerged with Benchmade. After receiving a Benchmade folding knife as a holiday gift and registering the product, I began receiving communications that focused less on the product line and more on the company itself. Benchmade did not set out simply to make knives; it set out to make them a specific way, in a specific place, and to a specific standard. That emphasis on how and why the company operates reframed the product as an expression of intent, not just an object for sale.
Purpose, in these cases, isn’t aspirational. It’s causal. This exists because that problem mattered.
In pharma, we often assume our purpose is self-evident. Of course we’re here to help patients. But self-evident does not mean emotionally resonant -- especially when stakeholders primarily "experience" us through brand tactics, clinical data, and compliance-heavy communications.
Commercial teams invest enormous energy and resources into branded initiatives: positioning, message development and deployment, omnichannel orchestration, campaign idea, segmentation, individualization, etc. All of it is necessary. But most of it tends to be product-centric by design.
Corporate mission, by contrast, often lives at a distance from the day-to-day experience of customers and partners. It shows up on a website. Maybe in a slide at the end of a brand plan. Rarely in the steady cadence of engagement.
That separation, that gap, is something many consumer brands have quietly solved.
They don’t replace product marketing with purpose. They interleave it. Between promotions, they remind you who they are. Why they started. Who they’re building for. And they do it without asking for anything in return.
Pharma tends to ask a different question: Where does this fit in the brand story? A more useful question might be: Where does this fit in the stakeholder relationship?
One of the more convenient myths in our industry is that stakeholders, be they KOLs, HCPs, payers, health system decision-makers, and even patients, are simply too rational, too time-constrained, or too tightly regulated to engage with corporate narrative. This belief is often reinforced by marketing research, where respondents can appear dismissive of corporate-level messaging around mission and values. But what those findings usually reflect is not indifference to purpose, but fatigue with how it is communicated.
Yet behavior consistently tells a more nuanced story. The same HCP who scrolls past a banner ad will often spend 30 or 45 seconds with a thoughtful email from a company they recognize and respect. The same P&T committee member who rigorously scrutinizes economic and budget impact models will still respond to signals of credibility, consistency, and intent over time. And patients, perhaps most of all, want to understand who they are trusting with their health. Increasingly -- particularly in rare diseases -- patients are leaning into pharma-provided educational materials, not out of convenience, but because in a fragmented information landscape, their physician or the broader internet does not always feel like the most complete or reliable source.
Purpose messaging works not because it persuades, but because it reassures. When done effectively, it is a confidence booster.
It says: this company knows why it exists, and that reason hasn’t changed just because a new product launched.
In pharma, trust is often discussed at the brand level: confidence in efficacy, safety, evidence. But consumer companies remind us that there is also such a thing as corporate trust -- and it compounds over time.
When a company periodically reinforces its founding principles, manufacturing philosophy, or its raison d’être, it creates a sense of continuity. You’re not just buying a product; you’re participating in a story that predates your transaction and will outlast it.
For pharma, this has meaningful implications. As portfolios expand, indications shift, and individual brands come and go, the corporate narrative may be the most stable anchor stakeholders have. Especially in therapeutic areas where patients and providers interact with multiple products from the same company over a lifetime.
This is not a call for more mission statements, glossy videos, or overwrought storytelling. Authenticity is non-negotiable, and stakeholders can sense when purpose is being retrofitted for marketing convenience.
Instead, there are a few practical lessons to consider:
The most striking outcome of these consumer brand emails wasn’t that they made me want to buy more. It was that they made me more confident in what I had already bought.
That distinction matters.
In pharma, where switching costs are high and relationships are long-term, reaffirming the corporate mission may be less about driving immediate action and more about strengthening the emotional foundation beneath rational decision-making. Habit.
In a world of increasing skepticism toward institutions, reminding stakeholders why you exist, and why that reason still matters, may be one of the most underutilized strategic assets we have.
Not louder. Not more frequent. Just more human.
