Dove, a soap and personal care brand owned by Unilever, manufactures dozens of anti-perspirants, body washes, beauty bars, lotions/moisturizers and facial care products. In 2006, Dove launched “campaign for real beauty,” an integral part of which is called the Dove “self-esteem fund.” In one of the most famous ads produced by the campaign (which can be found at www.campaignforrealbeauty.com), a time-lapse film shows a modestly attractive young woman as she becomes transformed by hairdressers, makeup artists and Photoshop wizards into a billboard model. The femme fetale finally displayed on the billboard bears little resemblance to the original model, and that is exactly the message’s point. The spot concludes with, “No wonder our perception of beauty is distorted.”

In another series of advertisements which are part of the real beauty campaign, Dove’s skin firming (read: anti-cellulite) lotions and creams are promoted by real women who are shown stripped down to their plain white undies, showing off their tummies and backsides. Surprisingly, these women range greatly from size 4-12, and most are much more well-rounded and voluptuous than women we might expect to see in underwear ads. Dove’s ad is unprecedented: heftier women in a television spot in their underwear laughing and showing off their curves.

Dove states that their goal through the campaign is to develop a more inclusive definition of beauty. Dove believes low self-esteem “affects all women” and “can lead to introversion, a withdrawal from normal life and a waste of potential.” Dove hopes that it can help women all over the world understand that real beauty comes in many shapes, sizes and ages.

Marketing-wise, many have touted Dove’s new campaign as nothing short of brilliant. Targeting a wider group of women (pardon the pun) may certainly lead to increased product sales and make Dove seem noble. The message, “You are beautiful because you are unique, oh and by the way buy our product" seems a bit healthier than “You aren’t beautiful without our product.”

The difference in marketing approaches is novel, and the risk might just pay off. However, the wrinkle, so to speak, is this: while the campaign seems morally sound, it still aims to sell a beauty product by playing on women’s insecurities, yet it just targets a new audience. The new Dove accepts round and thick, so long as your skin is firm and cellulite-free.

This you-go-girl media empowerment campaign is a despicable hoax, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Dove has simply found a new way to capitalize upon women’s already existing insecurities; insecurities which Dove itself is masterfully aware of and has helped establish and expand for decades; insecurities which Dove claims affect “all women.” Dove’s website describes their desire to help women feel more beautiful and “overcome life damaging hang-ups by putting beauty in perspective.” Right. Forking over more than $40 for three separate products that appear to make one have less cellulite is putting beauty in perspective.

Teaching women about real beauty should, at some point, begin to address the third-grade concept of “it’s what’s on the inside that counts.” Dove’s campaign does no such thing. Rather, Dove’s definition of beauty is simply expanded from size 0-2 women to cellulite-free size 4-12 women (the average American woman is size 14).

What about inner beauty? Dove’s website does outline various partnerships with respected agencies such as Girl Scouts aimed at helping young girls understand that beauty can come from within as well. Nonetheless, the campaign becomes severely compromised as little girls receive pamphlets stamped with Dove logos, pictures of beautiful smiling young girls and coupons for Dove products either to use themselves or to pass onto Mommy.

In the last ten years, several lawsuits against Phillip Morris forced the company to invest money in a number of peaceful and constructive activities. A number of antismoking ads, “Think. Don’t Smoke.” — as well as several efforts to help those in poverty or abusive relationships — proved in time nothing more than a good citizen smokescreen. In 2006, Phillip Morris spent $2 million on domestic violence programs nationally, and $108 million on a nationwide TV and print advertising campaign to tell us about it. Critics called out the company to pull the “Think. Don’t Smoke.” ads as well as the ads boasting about an abused woman who benefited from a Philip Morris financial contribution and asked the company to put its money where its mouth was — in proven programs that actually work to reduce youth smoking and domestic violence.

Dove’s campaign is no different, just a bit more slick. Fortunately, Dove’s soap bars and anti-cellulite creams don’t cause lung cancer like cigarettes do. However, it is impossible to gauge how Dove’s thousand of advertisements and decades of displaying women as impossibly beautiful has, in Dove’s own words, “distorted our perception of beauty” and affected the physical and mental well-being of females worldwide. It’s a no-brainer that fraudulent depictions of near-perfect women can affect a young girl’s fragile self-image.

I doubt there is an ounce of good, honest motive behind Dove’s campaign for real beauty. The campaign simply aims to flatter and attract a wider audience by making them feel a bit more comfortable with their bodies (but not too comfortable, because cellulite is unacceptable). Unilever, a company with an annual revenue of over $50 billion, is pulling a Phillip Morris here — doing little to really tackle the root of the problem (women’s self-esteem), and using a bogus campaign to improve their public image while selling their product to a vulnerable audience they help create; an audience whose vulnerability their profits depend on.

Behzad Varamini is a graduate student in Nutritional Sciences. He can be reached at bv29@cornell.edu. Gain Through Loss appears alternate Wednesdays.