Magnets Unplugged

Feeling achy? Tired? Nauseous? Have pain in your (insert body part here)? Maybe you need a magnet.

Therapeutic magnets resemble refrigerator magnets, though without the decorative doohickeys and presumably with some health benefit beyond their magnetic ability to pull in over $4 billion in sales worldwide in 1999, half a billion of that in the U.S.

Discerning just what these bits of charged metal offer is a challenge for the most open-minded. Take the "depression magnet cap," which looks like something Woody Allen wore out of the Orgasmatron in Sleeper ($159 at buyamag.com). Buyamag's Web site says the cap, which has Velcro closures and 57 gold-plated magnets, is comfortable, but nowhere does it mention what the cap does. The potential wearer is likely expected to divine its purpose from the list of frontal-lobe brain functions -- including "emotions," "behavior," and "problem-solving" -- posted beneath the illustration.

The Food and Drug Administration's prohibition on unfounded medical claims partly explains the vague tone of many magnet ads. Magnetic mattress pads for the sleep-deprived (up to $520 on mags4pain.com) are described only as restoring energy and promoting restful sleep. A magnetic eye massager ($74.95 from lifeandlight.com) is billed as addressing the decidedly nonmedical problem of "baggy eyes," while magnetic earrings, bracelets, and necklaces are promoted as "pretty and effective."

Effective at what? Well, according to the many testimonials scattered over the Internet and mail-order magnet catalogues, magnets can do almost anything, including normalize blood pressure, stimulate nerves, repair muscles, reduce the need to go to the bathroom, promote healing, increase energy, even -- perhaps inevitably -- cure cancer. The most common claims are about pain relief, which is the goal of applying magnetic patches to acupuncture points and wearing magnetic belts around backs, shoulders, knees, ankles, and feet.

There are lots of ideas about how magnets achieve these feats. A popular theory is that magnetic fields penetrate cells and, by magnetizing blood, increase the flow of oxygen throughout the body. Another is that magnets block pain by stimulating the nervous system. One overarching explanation of magnets' health value might be called the Cuisinart theory, which posits that modern electrical appliances have diminished the earth's natural magnetic force, and that therapeutic magnets restore it to the more healthful levels of olden days.

Oddly, back in that idyllic past healers were already playing with magnets. Sixteenth-century physician Paracelsus figured that magnets might be able to draw diseases from the body based on their ability to attract iron. Later, Franz Anton Mesmer came up with "animal magnetism," the idea that humans and animals could be healed through magnets or even leather or wood exposed to them. Though that concept was soon trashed by a panel of experts, believers persisted. An 1886 mail-order catalogue offered a complete magnet-coated costume that provided "full and complete protection of the vital organs of the body" (and wouldn't look half bad with the right magnet-studded cap).

Perhaps therapeutic magnetism continues to draw because it makes some sense -- with emphasis on the word some. The earth does indeed exert magnetic force on humans; that force has diminished over the years, and many animals do have built-in magnetic receptors (though none have been discovered yet in humans).

Indeed, one offshoot of magnetism has proven useful. Decades ago, the FDA approved the use of electromagnetic fields from pulsed magnets to stimulate bone growth and heal fractures. But while therapeutic electromagnetism -- which involves generating a magnetic field by running electrical current through wire -- has ascended to widespread acceptance, therapeutic magnets of the weaker, nonelectric sort remain on the fringe.