To Örebro University

Aims: In the UK, nicotine pouches are growing in popularity, particularly among young people. This study investigated the Instagram marketing strategies of one leading brand, Nordic Spirit.

Methods: A total of 496 Instagram posts published by Nordic Spirit between 2019 and 2023 were collected and organised into themes using qualitative content analysis to identify recurring patterns. Then, multimodal critical discourse analysis was employed to explore the different linguistic and other semiotic resources at work in posts, their ideological patterns and how they work together to frame nicotine pouches as an essential product for young people.

Results: The study identified four key messages that Nordic Spirit uses to target young people: (1) fun and freedom; (2) Nordic happiness; (3) fuss-free and discreet; and (4) healthy and scientifically rational. It found that posts are often misleading, underplay the dangers of nicotine and frame nicotine pouches as trendy lifestyle products rather than as smoking alternatives.

Conclusion: The results underline the dangers of such marketing strategies in encouraging nicotine addiction and dependence. Consequently, the UK government and Advertising Standards Authority should do more to clamp down on these social media posts and introduce tighter regulations to protect young people and uphold their freedom from exploitation.

This paper explores the early marketing practices (1910–1940) of the Swedish cough drop brand Läkerol, demonstrating how it capitalised on the ‘spaces of confusion’ posed by the product’s liminality between food and medicine to create a slick marketing campaign inspired by the tried-and-tested formulas of the food industry. Advertisements used a range of strategies, such as expert and role model testimonials, humorous and serious newsjacking and the introduction of a friend-physician brand mascot to extend Läkerol from a cold remedy to an everyday product necessary for fun and excitement. By telling consumers not just about its benefits, but also connoting that it was part of a contemporary way of living, Läkerol was able to incorporate itself into a daily consumerist lifestyle, growing into a trendy and popular brand consumed daily by Swedes as part of a ritualised practice.

In our community, girls do not need this [English-medium education].Interview with male teacherNepal is classified as a low-middle income country (World Bank, 2023), and like other such countries, it is under international pressure to attain gender equality targets in order to receive international aid. However, Nepal is also permeated by widespread perceptions that girls are subordinate to boys, which influences girls' access to education, information, health and the labour market (Upadhaya & Sah, 2019). Women face restrictions in terms of their basic ability to 'independently venture outside the household, maintain the privacy of their bank accounts, use mobile phones, or become employed' (Karki & Mix, 2022: 413). Illiteracy disproportionately affects females, with 58.95% of illiterates being women and girls (UNESCO, 2021). Notwithstanding this, recent years have seen some progress in enhancing gender equality in Nepal, and females currently enjoy higher enrolment rates than males across secondary education (UNESCO, 2023). This article, however, provides evidence that the recent trend to offer English-medium education risks setting back progress made by creating a gender-differentiated system that could yield different outcomes for boys and girls and potentially restrict girls' future trajectories post school and contribute to broader gender inequality in society.

This paper investigates the introduction of the banana to Sweden in the early twentieth century and how "eating knowledge" of this new and exotic fruit was transferred to consumers through marketing that drew heavily upon scientific discourse. Using a case study of advertisements from Fyffes - the most dominant banana brand of the period - it employs multimodal social semiotics to identify a range of verbal and visual strategies that were adopted to turn the product into a core part of the Swedish diet. It argues that these strategies were critical in educating Swedish people about the link between food and health and shaped their (positive) attitudes toward bananas. The banana, thus, stands as a strong example of how marketing can transport, shape and transform knowledge about food, particularly at a critical time when it is first being introduced into a country.

Purpose: The purpose of this paper is to provide the first comprehensive examination of the early cannabis-based food products industry, using Sweden as a case study. Drawing upon historical newspaper articles and advertisements from the Swedish Historical Newspaper Archive, the authors trace the short-lived development of the industry, from the initial exploitation of fears of tuberculosis in the late 19th century, followed by the "boom" in hempseed extract products and the widening of its claimed effects and, finally, increased skepticism and critiques of such products across the popular press in the early 20th century.

Design/methodology/approach: A rigorous search of the Swedish Historical Newspaper Archive was conducted to gather newspaper articles and advertisements on cannabis-based foods. The collected resources were scrutinized using critical discourse analysis to tease out key discourses at work, particularly around the concepts of health, nutrition and science.

Findings: The authors find that central to the marketization of cannabis-based foods was the construction of disease based on scientific and medical discourse, fearmongering to create a strong consumer base and individualization to place responsibility on consumers to take action to protect their family's health. This demonstrates not only the long historical relationship between science and food marketing but also how brands' health claims could often be fraudulent or overstated.

Originality/value: It is important to cast a historical lens on the commercialization of cannabis-based food products because demand for similar types of products has rapidly grown over the past decade. Now, just as before, manufacturers tap into consumers' insecurities about health, and many of the same questions continue to be mooted about products' safety. Paying greater attention to the broader and problematic history of commercial cannabis can, thus, serve as a reminder for both consumers and policymakers to think twice about whether hemp really is for health and if the claims it espouses are a mirage rather than a miracle.

This paper offers the first case study of Phospho-Energon - an early twentieth-century Swedish patent medicine believed to cure nervousness. Using a large dataset of newspaper advertisements, it explores how the product was presented through scientific and medical language, which drew upon a range of visual and verbal rhetoric to convince consumers of its benefits. It finds that pseudoscientific discourse focusing on self-help was regularly used to sell Phospho-Energon, with consumers warned that their nerves were "not allowed to fail" and required "protection" in order to remain healthy. Furthermore, the "science" supporting this discourse gradually shifted over time as neurosis replaced neurasthenia as a diagnostic category and the concept of spring lethargy became popularised. Overall, this study argues that Phospho-Energon stands as an important example of how partial scientific/medical claims can be used as a rhetorical device to sell products to consumers looking for a quick-fix cure for their perceived mental health conditions.

Throughout the early twentieth century, the widespread growth of coffee drinking in Sweden led for calls by health reformers, doctors and scientists to implement measures to curtail what they deemed "coffee abuse." Debates about the dangers of coffee took place in Swedish Parliament and trickled out into the popular press. It was not long before canny manufacturers saw an opportunity to capitalize upon this, introducing coffee substitutes onto the Swedish market. One of the most popular brands was the roasted wheat bran drink Postum. This article seeks to investigate the early marketing practices of Postum in Sweden and how the brand used advertisements to exploit the public's growing fears around coffee and put itself forward as a viable substitute that was essential for good health. Using a dataset of 200 advertisements published in Svenska Dagbladet between 1926 and 1940, it demonstrates how Postum skewed scientific/medical knowledge on caffeine to their advantage, urging consumers to buy Postum to protect themselves against neurasthenia, insomnia and digestive disorders. In doing so, Postum went far beyond its role as a drink, instead tapping into discourses of wellbeing, morality and productivity, which remain a central part of food marketing today.

This study offers the first detailed examination of the materiality of World War One hardtack biscuits - a dense biscuit made from flour, water and salt, which was a key component of ration packs for both Australian and British soldiers. It is specifically concerned with the types of repurposing - or acts of semiotic remediation - that take place, their broader sociocultural functions and the semiotic resources drawn upon to make meaning. Using a combination of multimodal analysis and archival research, it identifies five key acts of semiotic remediation by soldiers - declarations of ownership, letters, diary entries, photo frames and objets d'arts - which showcase hardtacks as unique, unmediated resources for understanding WW1 experiences. It also notes the frequent use of humour as a coping mechanism, as well as the important memorialisation function of hardtacks, acquiring symbolic values disproportionate to their everyday value for bereaved families. Hardtacks, thus, stand as a testimony to the resourcefulness of humans in trying circumstances, holding a wealth of knowledge on the aestheticisation of war that no living person possesses.

This paper traces a walking tour of Cork City that I recently undertook, using an autoethnographic perspective to tap into the linguistic and semiotic features of places and spaces associated with the blues musician Rory Gallagher and how they are tied to specific music memories. To do this, I draw on the theory of semiotic landscapes, yet put forward the term semiotic musicscapes to account for the imagined, embodied and emotional aspects of the visual linguistic environment that such music walks entail. I argue that these forms of secular pilgrimage turn the 'ordinary' into the 'extraordinary', relying on both specialised music knowledge and the imaginarium to make true meaning from visual and verbal signs. The paper, thus, offers a new way for ethnomusicologists to explore the cultural geography of music, as well as for (socio)linguists to approach the study of semiotic landscapes, particularly when tied up with musical heritage. It also extends current scholarship on Rory Gallagher whose life and work remain underresearched, despite his importance as a founding figure of Irish rock music.

In the early twentieth century, intense public debate was taking place in Sweden around the control of alcohol consumption. Under intense pressure from the growing temperance movement, the Swedish government passed a motion to hold a referendum on 27 August 1922 to determine whether a total prohibition of alcohol should be implemented. One of the most important means of influencing public opinions was the propaganda poster, which relied on simple pictures, catchy slogans and bright colours to domesticate the prohibition debate and make it easily digestible. This paper conducts a study of the posters produced by the 'yes' and 'no' campaigns during the lead-up to the referendum. It finds that, despite their opposing arguments, both sides used similar arguments based around the breakdown of family life and the breakdown of Swedish society, depicting an imagined present or future in which Sweden was lawless and traditional values were threatened. Furthermore, both sides stirred up class warfare, creating conflict between the Swedish people and the government, and depicting alcoholism as a predominantly male, working-class problem. Overall, it argues that the 'no' campaign posters were ultimately more successful because of their ability to play on voters' emotions rather than use rational arguments.