In pharmaceutical marketing research, we take pride in our ability to uncover deep insights into the healthcare consumer (HCC) experience—encompassing both patients and caregivers. Commercial teams and their research partners dedicate countless hours to designing discussion guides, recruiting respondents, and conducting in-depth interviews. We probe for unmet needs, pain points, and emotional triggers, while dissecting treatment decision-making and mapping the patient journey. Through this process, we strive to capture the authentic lived experiences of HCCs, gaining a deeper understanding of their adherence challenges, pivotal moments, and the factors that shape their healthcare decisions.
And yet, in all my years as a moderator—having conducted thousands of interviews with patients and caregivers across nearly every major 'druggable' disease state—one truth has remained unwavering: when asked what sustains them through the most harrowing moments of their illness, their first thoughts rarely turn to medical treatments. They do not begin with a mechanism of action, a co-pay assistance program, or even the compassionate support of their healthcare providers. More often than not, their reflections drift toward something far more profound and immutable: their faith.
This is not something we, as moderators, deliberately probe for. In fact, due to regulatory and compliance constraints, it is rarely something we can formally explore. But faith is ever-present in these conversations. Patients, particularly those battling life-threatening or challenging chronic conditions, frequently share how their belief in God or a higher purpose gives them the fortitude to endure. Caregivers frequently speak of prayer as their primary coping mechanism, their faith communities as their greatest support networks, and their spiritual beliefs as the lens through which they make sense of their suffering.
Despite its undeniable presence in patient and caregiver conversations, this critical element of the healthcare experience remains largely unexamined within the pharmaceutical industry. It lingers in the background—acknowledged implicitly but rarely explored in depth. Why is that?
Last year, I had the privilege of conducting research on behalf of Team Joseph, an extraordinary organization that supports and advocates on behalf of families affected by Duchenne muscular dystrophy (DMD). These caregivers—many of whom were parents navigating the devastating reality of watching their children’s muscles deteriorate—shared their fears, their struggles, and their steadfast hope.
One thing that came out of these conversations was undeniable: faith was a sustaining force for nearly all of them. They spoke about the power of prayer, the necessity of believing in something greater than themselves, and the role their religious communities played in providing the support they so desperately needed. Many admitted that they had wrestled with the question “Why me? Why my child?”—a question with no easy answer. For them, faith provided the only framework that made any sense.
This pattern extends far beyond DMD. I have witnessed it surface in conversations with cancer patients enduring grueling chemotherapy regimens, ALS patients confronting the relentless progression of paralysis, and parents grappling with the heartbreak of caring for children with rare, untreatable conditions. Even in studies focused on less acute illnesses—such as autoimmune disorders, chronic migraine, type 2 diabetes, or heart failure—faith inevitably weaves its way into the dialogue.
Indeed, if one were to conduct a systematic word search through interview transcripts—analyzing discussions with patients and caregivers across disease states—I have no doubt that words tied to faith, belief, prayer, and divine purpose would appear with remarkable frequency. These terms aren’t anomalies or outliers; they are embedded in the language people use to describe their struggles, their resilience, and ultimately, what sustains them through their healthcare journeys.
Pharmaceutical companies are undoubtedly making significant strides in understanding the whole patient—not just their clinical symptoms and disease experience, but also their emotional, social, and psychological realities. However, when it comes to faith, there is a conspicuous silence.
This is understandable. The regulatory and compliance environment in which we operate does not allow for discussions that could be construed as proselytizing. Pharmaceutical brands cannot—and should not—align themselves with any particular religious perspective. Moreover, in a world where science and evidence-based medicine reign supreme, faith can feel like an uncomfortable, intangible concept.
But just because something is difficult to quantify does not mean it is insignificant. If we as an industry claim to be truly patient-centric, we cannot continue to ignore one of the most deeply rooted aspects of human healing, and human perseverance.
Why should pharma commercial leaders care about something they cannot directly market or include in promotional materials? Because understanding faith is essential to understanding motivation, and motivation is at the heart of nearly every business challenge in healthcare.
While I did (during college) consider becoming a rabbi, believe me, I am not suggesting that pharmaceutical companies begin incorporating religious messaging into their branding or marketing efforts. But I am suggesting that we stop treating faith as an invisible force in our research and strategy discussions.
So how can we -- as those who seek customer truth -- responsibly acknowledge faith without crossing regulatory lines?
Pharmaceutical companies will always be in the business of advancing science and medicine - that's what they do best. But healing is about more than just treating symptoms—it is about supporting patients (and their caregivers) in their entirety.
If we are truly committed to understanding the whole patient, we must be willing to listen—not just to what is easily measured, but to what is deeply felt. We must recognize that, for many, faith is not just an abstract belief—it is the fundamental foundation of their resilience, their reason for persisting through the most difficult treatments, and the lens through which they find meaning in their suffering.
Ignoring this reality does a disservice not just to patients, but to the industry itself.
If we claim to be listening, we must be willing to hear everything.