Baskin Dim Bulb branding advertising social media business strategy

Even Before The Ink Dries

Kodak has just announced its new "Print and Prosper" marketing campaign, and I think it's utterly brilliant branding.

The premise is simple: Kodak printers use cheaper ink without sacrificing quality, so they cost less to use.  As most everyone knows, at least viscerally, cartridges are the not-so-secret whammy that lets HP, Lexmark, Brother, and the other manufacturers push down the hardware cost..and then recoup everything, and more, through ink usage over time.

Gillette pioneered this approach with its blade pricing, though it has become so expertly copied that it risks becoming synonymous with hidden costs.  Discovering the financial impact of using a printer is kind of like getting told that checking a second bag on an airline will be an additional expense...or that the car you think you just priced will cost extra thanks to various dealer fees.  It just seems somewhat dishonest, even if the consumer should have consciously expected it.

So I like the Kodak strategy because it hits on a fact that requires no explanation, and declares that there will be no surprises.  You don't need to deconstruct the message that Kodak printers are cheaper to operate.  There's no hip imagery, music, or vain attempts to associate emotions with the business.  Saving money is a happy emotion, and requires no elaboration.

This says lots about the authenticity of its brand, as well as its relevance.  It's a welcome contrast to the nonsense feel good marketing on which it has been wasting its money for the past few years.  People might actually buy the stuff because of this campaign.

It's supported with an online calculator to figure out how much money you'd save (by asking details about the printer you're currently using, so it's also a nefarious swipe at gathering data), and there's a silly partnership with some "consumer advocate" to help expose the issue (it looks ersatz, and adds nothing).  I'm sure we’ll see the requisite Facebook page(s) and other social media expenditures that constitute the creative tax that agencies levy on clients these days.

I would have taken the plunge and added more operational components to it, like:

• Different pricing models -- Cartridge purchases could be the basis of a loyalty program, allowing buyers to accrue value over time.  Or how about a more visible spent unit return program that had some measurable deliverable that helped save the planet?
• Novel bundles -- Why not put together a B&W cartridge and a supply of paper that it could cover?  There's no good reason why ink and paper are sold separately, at least from a consumer perspective.  Kodak could recommend the "right" paper for its bargain cartridges, and price the bundles (photo copying, color printing, etc.) to sell.
• New distribution -- I'm thinking subscription here, or some other semi-automatic replenishment mechanism.  There's also no good reason to make customers go to the store to buy cartridges, and usually it's because they've run out when they were trying to accomplish something (i.e. it's negative to the brand experience).
• Link to other divisions -- Now that we can print more pages without guilt, couldn't Kodak offer an upload/online backup storage service (or, since the printed documents were already computer files, maybe the capacity to store and/or OCR hand-written edits, drawings, etc)?  There must be a connection here to printing pictures.
• Long-term picture -- A printer has the half-life of a flea, so it's effectively worthless by the time you've hooked it up to your computer.  So why not sell subscriptions (or membership, or whatever) to them, instead of simply retailing stand-alone pieces of hardware?  There could be a service component to such a relationship structure, too.  So maybe people lease printers...then trade-in, trade-up, etc.?

The brilliance of Kodak's latest branding is that it sets the stage for any of these possibilities...or for better ones, because it is simple, factual, and relevant. 

The company can aggresively improve on the campaign even before the ink dries.

A One-Sided Debate

Republican propaganda contesting the purported intentions of President Obama falls into two broad categories:

1. He's a socialist, leading a fifth column working to undermine Our Way of Life
2. He's going to bankrupt the American economy (see Point #1)

So we have otherwise intelligent Republican legislators refusing to work on any of the plans coming out of Washington, and certain Republican governors declining some or all of the funds that come along with said plans.  Instead, they're dedicating their not insubstantial skills of insight and oratory to appearing as talking heads across the mediasphere, claiming "principled opposition" as they repeatedly point out that anything President Obama does will hasten the arrival of Armageddon. 

And then something occurred to me as I was at the gym, watching Newt Gingrich, Glenn Beck, or some other guy blather on about something: it's as if Obama is Darth Vader, and the Republicans are the vailiant Ewok soldiers, fighting to defend the natural order. 

This would be funny if it weren't so damn serious.  One of the two major political parties in America has opted-out of participating in government.  It's a slash-and-burn strategy, and it makes perfect sense from a branding perspective.  Circa about 1950, that is. 

Before you read any further, please understand that I'm not exploring (or promoting) the merits or details of any of the President's plans.  Nor am I a fan of the Democratic branding machine; for the past 8 years, the party stood for absolutely nothing.  At least the Republicans have decided to commit to something.

But that something is pretty much irrelevant, isn't it?

Opining about the threat to civilization might appeal to Palin-ified voters, but it trades utility for provocation...while substituting demagoguery for policy.  It's simply not true, no matter how brilliantly the strategists twist and abuse the facts.  So even if it makes for quotable TV interviews, what good is it? 

Imagine if Unilever's branding strategy were to publicly claim that P&G was owned by the Devil?  Or Wrigley's officially alleged that Bubble Yum was made with spider eggs.  Or whatever. 

It's also all but impossible to negotiate with a leader whom you've likened to the Antichrist.  So the comments coming from the Republicans don't leave much room for compromise.   

But then again, compromise is not on the agenda; rather, its branding strategy is to stand on the sidelines while the President governs, content to harp around the edges of every announcement.  Somewhere in the dark corridors in which such things are decided,  strategists decided that the Republicans would "go back to their roots" and be the party of small government.

That means the best it can offer for, say, an answer to millions of people at risk of losing their homes is...a tax cut.  The challenge of a warming planet, and the geopolitical need to wean ourselves off oil is the opportunity for...a tax cut.  The way to finally rid ourselves of the most expensive and inefficient healthcare system in the civilized world is...a tax cut.

Like I said, this would be laughable if the stakes weren't so high.

We need government to do things for us...like have a vision for our energy or health care future...because economies are political organisms, not just financial.  They're also emotional, cultural, and social networks.  If we don't work toward an end, we may never get there...that's why the Founding Fathers formed a government in the first place.  Claiming otherwise is either a purposeful disregard for the facts, or the result of complete ignorance.

So the real debate should be about what the government should do, how it should do it, and what it should cost.  Republicans and Democrats can and should clash on those details, and then agree to a conclusion, and get behind the President. 

Claiming no part in the conversation, other than to harp about it heralding the end of life as we know it, is political idiocy..even if it's a typical brand/ marketing decision. 

Instead of participating, the Republicans have chosen to stay true to some imaginary abstraction of the party's image, which requires it step back from the messy reality of governing.  So we voters get no dialogue, conversation, and certainly no compromises on the issues that require lots of heated and engaged debate.  Instead, the party saves everything for the Fox network and the blogosphere, where the epic battle between Good and Evil regularly needs a new installment. 

A one-sided debate is a lot easier to conduct.  And it’s all about reinforcing the brand. 

It's a bummer, really.  With a socialist bent on ruining our economy running things, you'd think the Republicans would want to get more involved, not less.

Fix My Face. Really.

Clarins Group, a French cosmetics brand, is rolling out spas in upscale department stores across the U.S., in an effort to provide facials as a catalyst for selling its products.

It makes sense from the perspective of the brand, of course: upscale cosmetics belong in spas, and are further credentialed by experts wearing white coats, wielding makeup brushes and handfuls of goop.  The brand strategy is also intended to target Hispanic women, so I'm sure sometimes the spa experience will be conducted in Spanish.  Voila.  Brand experience equals product sales.

Not so much. 

Spa visits are optional, and your average consumer considers them a luxury.  Last time I checked, luxury choices weren't faring so well in this melted economy of ours.  There's a cadre of consumers who visit department store counters for a close approximation of an entertaining experience (getting eyes done, etc.), but Clarins can't be planning on converting them, can it?

There's a much bigger opportunity here, and it has to do with thinking about brand as behavior, not image.  Clarins should think less upscale spa, and more downscale Starbucks outlet.  Skip offering luxuries or other options relevant to the brand, but rather find the routines that address consumer needs, and prompt ongoing behaviors.

Here are a few nutty ideas:

• Morning Prep: Why couldn't women be offered a start-of-the-day treatment -- sunblock in the Summer, moisturizer in the Winter -- priced at something shy of a cup of coffee, and taking all of a minute to apply?  Make it a daily stop, offering subscription pricing and frequency discounts/benefits
• Mid-day Refresh: What about the lunchtime refresher experience...something all of 5 minutes long, but including a face wash and some makeup application?  Heck, why not make a take-away salad or sandwich part of the deal?  Throw in a hair wash and dry?
• Evening Treatment:  Take the mid-day deal and spice it up, letting women schedule customized visits prior to going out in the evening.  Personal preferences could be stored, and a quick stop could let people prepare for a night on the town?  There could be coordinated selling opps with other departments in the store

Here's another wacky idea: offer the same deals to men.

The spa concept is generically inert; other than whatever presumptions the marketers possess about the brand, there's nothing unique or motivating about the offer.  Cosmetics counters at department stores are mostly the engagement corollary of a drive-by shooting.

But if Clarins focused its brand understand out to the routines and needs of its would-be customers, it might open up an entirely new approach to these time-worn ideas. 

Don't offer merely to enhance my appearance.  Fix my face.  Really.  

Well, sort of.

l'll Bet On The People's Car

Tata Motors is going to auction its first 100,000 Nano automobiles in India to customers chosen by lottery, at a retail price that starts at about $2,000.

The thing looks like a Pinewood Derby body stuck on a lawnmower, is named after an mp3 player, and seems sized to fit four full-bodied Australopithecus, but nevermind all that: it's cheap, gets 55 miles to the gallon and travels about that far in an hour, and could forever change the automotive retailing landscape worldwide.

It does so by two ways:

1. What it is.  A small car made out of what might be no more than aluminum foil, mass-produced and sold for the cost of a really nice desktop computer, means that lots of people could buy it.  So don't think about it as a second or third car...but rather just another car that could be used if and when useful.  Suddenly, the debate isn't about replacement, but simply an alternative to driving one of those larger, gas-guzzling SUVs in the 5-car garage.  It's very possible that the way to move the conversation about conservation significantly forward is to stop trying to have our proverbial cake, and eating it too.  The Nano could get into enough hands to be a default choice when travel doesn't require great speed, style, or comfort.
2. How it's sold.  A lottery is such a cool idea.  It's a game, sort of, and it acknowledges demand without overtly trying to exploit it.  The distribution challenge for the Nano is to get a lot of them out on the road as soon as possible; only then will people be able to get over some of their safety concerns (the presumption, however faulty, that big cars are somehow safer has helped drive the SUV business).  I wonder it Tata will consider other sales models. I've got one idea: give the cars away, and charge for brokered fuel deals, services, etc.  I suspect that this little vehicle has the potential to turn the auto dealer model on its head (pulling the model out of the grave first, of course)

I've been a fan of Tata for some time now.  This is the company that bought Jaguar and Land Rover from Ford, both because it wanted high-end offerings, but also to repurpose the design and manufacturing knowledge across all of its product lines.  Tata innovates, in real and meaningful ways, and isn't afraid to experiment with similar conviction.  It's no surprise that it's selling Nanos by lottery; just like in the beer business, we're seeing some of the boldest, most radical marketing ideas coming from companies that don't come from the staid economies of North America, Europe, or Asia.

A true people's car like the Nano could really shake up our automotive markets. 

Too bad its estimating that a U.S. version is two years away.  I say let's skip trying to bailout or legislatively run the car companies currently in trouble -- and evidencing no real capacity for risk or experimentation -- and throw the public money to incentivize better competitors, like Tata, to move up their production plans. Why pay companies to try to come up with vehicles as competitive as the Nano, or to try and learn novel marketing techniques that Tata has already pioneered?

Let's invest in making a thriving market out of the crumbled dust of one that is terminally decrepit. Such a re-energized market could then decide which companies will ultimately win or lose. 

I'll bet on the people's car.

In Praise of Lag

The Greek Chorus of technologists and the digerati continue to belittle marketers for their slowness in shifting ad budgets online.

The rationale is that 2/3 of consumers now use social networks for something or another, and online and portable music usage has soared.  Yet 4 out of every 5 ad executives polled in a survey conducted by IBM said that they were "...at least five years away from being able to deliver cross-platform advertising, encompassing sales, delivery, measurement and analysis."

"Marketers don't have to wait five more years only to realize that they are now twenty years behind," explains one expert, with some disdain.  "Everyone -- both on the agency and client side -- can fix this laggard attitude starting right now."

If anyone else claimed that the solution to a problem was 1) do something entirely logically flawed and untested, and 2) spend lots of money on it right away, they'd be laughed out of the room.  When it comes to marketing ideas, however, we still give such nonsense credence, as if the insistent conclusions of their promoters are objective or true.

They're not.  So I say congratulations to any marketer who has the fortitude to resist the siren call of cross-platform advertising, encompassing sales, delivery, measurement and analysis.

The strategy and content of brands emerged in lock-step with the technology available to reach consumers: distribution of news/entertainment via mass media print, followed by radio and television, allowed marketers of the mid-20th Century to present vague, emotionally-based promises before an audience of consumers who'd been trained to believe and follow.  Image was reality, and the pretense flourished for at least a generation.

But those days are long gone.  Reality begets image -- first, foremost, and continuously -- thanks to the Internet, and to our new-found "old" habit of relying on one another for info and affirmation.  That means the ideas used to communicate with consumers can't just be adapted to digital tools, but need to be utterly redefined. 

The idea that brands (and their advertising) should be migrated online is like saying buggy whips should be reformatted for automobiles.

When Marshall McLuhan said "the medium is the message," he was partially correct: the way we interact with electronic media is as formative to our experience as the content delivered thereby.  Ads may never work on Facebook because we're simply not there to read or care about them, just as faux billboards or other product placements in video games might prove unmemorable (just as they do in the real world, strangely enough). 

Yet now know that the message is the message, too.  Content matters. 

So when claims of new and improved fall on deaf ears in TV or print ads, it's not because of a failure of the medium, but rather the message; people haven't rejected advertising as much as tuned out the stuff that doesn't tell them anything relevant.  Similarly, when it comes to social media, it means that we have far to go in understanding the utility and practice of behavioral outcomes.  Social networks require social activities as their lingua franca, but said activities need some ultimate purpose beyond, well, being activities.  Underlying the digerati idea of brands is that branding should consist of people talking about branding. 

How gloriously circular, and ultimately pointless.  Digital engagement without actionable outcomes (other than more engagement) is no better than analog navel-gazing.

It makes sense that marketers are leery of these pitches.  I wouldn't blame their fear, or laziness, or lack of futuristic vision.  Maybe they're aware, however viscerally, that there's an absence in all of the guru disdain of any substantive and meaningful conversation about what, when, how, why, and if doing it makes sense.  

Online delivery of cross-platform advertising, encompassing sales, delivery, measurement and analysis isn't a foregone conclusion...it's a question in need of answers.  Perhaps the best way to explore it isn't to "fix this laggard attitude."

I'm all for some responsible, thoughtful lag.

Ada Lovelace Day

Today is "Ada Lovelace Day, an international day of blogging to draw attention to women excelling in technology," which I support 100%.  I find the event particularly interesting for two reasons:

1. Ada was no technologist in any sense of the term we'd use today (the Victorians were steam-powered, after all).  She never touched a device more complicated than a gas lamp, and built absolutely nothing.  Yet I believe that we -- and especially our daughters -- need to better understand and appreciate her role as a technology translator and visionary
2. The concept of this virtual celebration, constructed entirely via online networking and propagated via blogs, is a compelling vision into our own technology future

Ada was the daughter of Lord Byron, the tragically-doomed Lothario poet (who never even knew his own child).  She was educated and curious -- qualities that weren't necessarily encouraged in the women of her time -- and moved in society's social circles that allowed her to strike up a friendship with Charles Babbage.  Babbage had an idea for a computational device that crunched numbers, which he called a "Difference Engine."

His updated his plans for an "Analytical Engine" prompted a long exegesis by an Italian mathematician named Luigi Menagbrea.  Ada translated it, appending it with notes and observations of her own, and even wrote a program that might run on the device. 

The gizmo was never built (well, not until 2002), Ada died really young (as did many of her contemporaries), and Babbage -- along with the male-dominated science establishment -- never gave her much credit.  But those facts only make her accomplishments all the more amazing: she had insights nobody else in her time possessed, when she wasn't supposed to have any at all.

Further, her insights weren't obsessed with technology. Perhaps because her father was a poet, but her vision was about outcomes...the things that technology might create.  She didn't envision enhancements, or migrating activities lock-stock from human beings to machines; she saw things that would be truly new, not just build-able (or monetizable).

In other words, she put most of today's technology entrepreneurs to shame, male or female. 

Now, the other things I find so compelling about today is that I'm even participating in this event, organized by a digital entrepreneur named Suw Charman-Anderson's.  I've never met her, but rather got virtual wind of today's celebration via a website called PledgeBank.  This service encourages people to start quid pro quo activities: posing not simply comments or opinions, but promising actions if others will commit to the same.

I think this is a visionary use of social networking technology.

One of the key shortcomings of most social sites is that, well, they're just social.  We can celebrate the fact that people like wasting their time checking their profiles and in-boxes (or walls, bulletin boards, yadda yadda), but the continuing problem has been that nobody wants to actually pay for the privilege.  Worthless conversation, however entertaining (or addictive) is still worthless.  

But services that encourage behaviors (like PledgeBank, or Meetup) are the shape of things to come.  Imagine if corporations approached social media as something more than a cheaper way to waste their customers' time?  Forget mining conversations for tidbits...and instead use them as actual channels for de facto contracts: if you do this, we'll do that.

The hard part to imagine now is that such agreements will involve far more than the marketing department, so the next chapter on social media won't be written by the marketers who are playing with it now.

The future belongs to the people who'd you'd least expect to see or invent it.  People like Ada Lovelace.  Women and men who excel at what they do, irrespective of every limitation or impediment to their success. 

We celebrate that invention today, just as we see it writing our own future.

I Didn't Know The Rules

I think the intimate relationship players have with videogames makes engagement with a brand seem like a bad blind date, but in both cases you've got to know the rules. 

Last week, I flew Southwest.  My dim memory of its open-seating policy got me to the airport at least 90 minutes before my scheduled departure, confident that I'd be the first guy to get on the plane.  I was shocked when my boarding card put me about 120th.  It seemed like every other passenger had got there before me.

I only learned later that you can check-in online within 24 hours of your departure, thereby receiving virtually your place in line.  I was aware of online check-in, but had never used it for any other airline (why would I want to print my boarding pass at home when I can do it at the airport in about 20 seconds?).

Games are no fun when you don't know the rules.  Neither are brands.  I'm not sure there is, or should be, a difference between the two. 

We marketers want our consumers to:

• Understand the point of our product or service
• Grasp the basics of using it, and
• Feel a sense of inclusion and empowerment therefrom
• Get rewarded for continued (or more frequent) use

In fact, I'd argue that most of our relationships with the stuff we buy are games, whether or not we (or the brands) think that way.  I get the rules for flying American; there are little user/player tricks that I know because of my repeat visits; I accrue status because of my successful, er, spending. 

Similarly, I was thrilled years ago to learn that ordering my hamburger "Animal" at In-N-Out Burger meant that it came fully loaded (uh oh, now I'm going to be killed for sharing that tidbit).  I know the day/time of day that gets me the quickest appointment at my Honda dealership, and how to use the FAQ at my various technology sites of choice in order to fix problems that other customer/victims have encountered.  My wife shops Gap only when the prices have been marked-down to red-line goodness. 

They're all games, and learning to play them means we feel more rewarded by them. And it means that it stinks when your ignorance of the rules means you can't enjoy the experience.  

Southwest's sign-in policy shouldn't be a value-add trick for repeat users, as being unaware of it means that newbies have a distinctly bad experience.  Any videogame designer would tell you that.  It's why games have loads of up-front training (I'm convinced that you could vastly improve your brand value if gamer designed your customer training/service function).

Why didn't some box pop up immediately after I bought my Southwest ticket, telling me that I should remember to check-in online?  Where are the suggestions from other seasoned travelers on what I should or shouldn't do?  Couldn't the airline embrace this interface -- home page as portal to a game -- as a starting point for developing those engaging player relationships?

Don't get me wrong: Southwest does a zillion things right.  But it did its best to make me feel like an outsider last week.  And that makes me less likely to return to playing the game.  Oops. I mean buying the brand.

The Future Is The Past?

What if one of the futures coming after our miracle of the Internet and the madness of our economics is a model of living and investing we last saw about a hundred years ago?

Just change the names, technologies du jour, and consider:

1. The world is effectively unknowable - At the beginning of the 20th Century, the vastness of the world was beyond the reach of most people.  Sure, they got info about it, but the content was infrequent, often indirect, and many times anecdotal.  It would be fair to say that most folks ended each day knowing and believing what they'd started their days knowing and believing.  In 2009, it's not all that much different.  We have infinite access to the world as rendered via the Internet, but the content we gain comes with a loss of confidence and veracity.  We see and hear more, but know less (generally speaking)
2. Communities are of paramount importance - This statement has been true for thousands of years, not just a hundred.  We base our beliefs and lifestyle/purchase decisions on the counsel and judgments of those whom we know, trust, and value.  Folks in the early 1900s were "members" of wide-ranging groups (organized religions, for instance), but the reality of that involvement was defined by very specific and focused involvement in a particular institution.  Civility required that men doff their hats in the presence of women, but that wasn't the same thing as acknowledging active membership in the same club (i.e. it was no different than "friending" someone on Facebook today)
3. All business is local - Most commerce in the early 1900s was local...products and services were offered within (and limited to) reasonably nearby geographies.  Production and consumption were integrated into mutually-supporting networks, even as the manufacture of certain complex or expensive products was being centralized (like light bulbs and cars).  Most of the institutions on which society depended -- banks, insurance, social services -- were local, as was most of the food production and entertainment (people played music more than they listened to it, for instance)

OK, it's with that third point that my theory falls apart. 

Little of what we rely upon today is local; in fact, commerce and our institutions are global.  Manufacturing is outsourced to distance lands.  Banks lend to people they don’t know.  Insurance risks are spread out among strangers who don't even know they have a shared involvement.  Energy is produced in far-away plants, using fuels from even more distant sources.  Pollution is spread out all over the planet. 

We celebrate this as progress toward the future.

But perhaps our global institutions (and our descriptions/affection for them) are getting too far detached from the local reality of our lives?  Maybe the real future is in recognizing the presence and relevance of the past?

Think about it.  We have numerous crises these days -- financial, environmental, social -- and the problems all seem to stem from the enormity of the enterprises and their impacts on our lives.  Yet the solutions all seem to be local, or at least the crises reveal our interests to be so. 

• Who needs lower-priced retail if it means destroying our local communities?
• What good is energy production if it destroys the environment in which we raise our kids?
• How does connecting with people in distant lands affect our regard and help for the people who live next door? 

It's as if the answers we turn to in these times of need are the same qualities upon which we've relied for a long, long time.  Close is better than far away.  Authenticity is better than anonymity.  We can't fix there unless we understand and support here.

In other words, maybe our lives (and our businesses in particular) are not only supposed to be local, but never stopped being so?

Maybe my theory doesn’t fall apart after all? 

Imagine a future in which the Internet enabled a more holistic, unified approach to our lives, in which our roles as consumers and citizens weren't separate? 

• We'd spend lots more time reaffirming our communities, most of which would be geographiclly local
• The stuff we bought would be made locally (when possible), as would the energy we used
• Commerce that required shipping or other transit costs would be analyzed in terms of how it impacted our environment
• Banks would lend to neighbors, and insurance companies would go back to their roots as mutuals, and help neighbors protect one another
• We could invest in companies next door (i.e. implement the micro-lending model). 

The anonymity and lack of accountability inherent in the very premise of global institutions would give way to sustainable local (and individually-based) enterprises. 

I'm just pondering whether we ever "recover" from the current malaise, or if we instead emerge into a new -- though perhaps familiar -- new state for our world. 

Crazy thinking for a Friday afternoon.  It's what dim bulbs do. 

Individuals and Crowds

The last year's worth of financial news nonsense has got me thinking again about the divergent roles individuals and groups play in our lives.  I'm torn between what, or whom, I'm supposed to trust.

It seems like the more broad and robust my access to the world gets, the less I know or believe.  I rely more on what is immediate and personal, and the things that I know are true get more simple and basic...just as the credibility of larger, more complicated subjects becomes hazy and elusive. 

All of us might live in a networked, ubiquitous net of information, wherein communication is as instantaneous as it's incomplete, but I also live in an ever-smaller, walled community of knowledge, in which people still speak in complete sentences.  I've got loads of Facebook "friends," but my friends on whom I rely for insight or counsel are a much smaller, tighter community, defined by lots of criteria that groups don't provide, let alone require.

I can't decide if I'm a cranky Luddite, or one of disparate number of real-life Hari Seldons.

When it comes to financial news, was the authority of content simply a ruse of intermediated distribution?  A quirk of technology history?  Was it opinion elevated to the status of truth because we just didn't know better? 

Between cable television and the blogosphere, we now know that there aren't just two sides to every story, but a limitless number of perspectives.  So none of us have to agree on which version of reality we choose to believe; in fact, because there are multiple versions available to us, we can pick one, and then organize (limit) our subsequent content consumption to support that choice. 

Or we can entertain a few simultaneously, reminded that an understanding of reality is never more than an opinion, and not a reflection of fact.

Can we crowdsource truth?  I know there's been lots written about it, and companies are spending mucho dollars betting that throwing marketing content into various online services will result in consumers separating fact from fiction.  I'm certain we can crowdsource cynicism, disbelief, and impatience.  And I know crowds tend to utz people to harden their positions and beliefs, so a lot of social media is less revelatory, and more an echo-chamber for prior-held thoughts. 

When I think about individuals and crowds, I see that we're now living through our first disintermediated economic crisis.  The Iraq war could have been our first geopolitical version, only battlefield reporting was/is tightly controlled, many of the would-be bloggers don’t write in English, and lots of people don't really care about something unless it impacts them directly (a la a loved one in the conflict, or in the case of the economy, less money in a 401(k) plan).

And guess what? 

For all of our access to information, we're getting no real insight or certitude from the crowd, and I bet if you're like me, you're turning to people in your immediate sphere of experience -- real-world family and friends -- for information.  It's funny that so many calls are being made for more transparency in, say, how the TARP funds were spent, yet our problem isn't that we don't have enought information...

...it's that we don't have the tools to decipher, correlate, and complete all the information the crowd is giving us.  What a crappy time for traditional journalism to be evaporating, eh? 

And, as the roles of individuals and crowds continue to diverge within the mediasphere, knowledge is disappearing in the gap. 

Ethics Are Worthless

I've seen a few commentaries lately, suggesting that we need to rethink how ethics and social responsibility are taught in the nation’s business schools...as the graduates of said programs are the leaders and operators responsible for turning our economy into a catastrophe.  Opinions on the nature of business leadership frequently include mention of ethics, much in the same way that critics of medical education bemoan the lack of bedside manners among doctors.

As long as ethics are viewed as a voluntary market externality, we're never going to see enough ethical business practices to overcome the ever-present tendency for economies (and societies) to slide into amoral muck.

Why do we treat the actions that are supposedly most important to us as if they should be voluntary behaviors, or simply taken for granted? 

Think about it for a minute.  Laissez-faire capitalism is all about the pursuit of self-interest...building businesses might include other businesses losing said business, but that's the creative destruction that allocates money and influence to the actions of those who've been proven worthy by market relevance and success.  If everyone tries their very best to invent and provide value, the marketplace will maximize business output, efficiency, and the quality of life for all involved.

What's the role for ethics? 

You have to choose to believe that there's some ultimate accounting of behaviors that rewards ethical actions -- what's right is good behavior, at some point -- and moderate your actions accordingly.  This invisible hand might involve the scrutiny of your consumers, critics, and/or a Higher Power, and it might defy every encouragement and indication you otherwise receive from the market. 

And, as it turns out, sometimes it might forever defy experience, as some people really do get away with acting unethically.  Or, conversely, something as nebulous as a user-generated definition of "ethics" means we all do at least some things that might be interpreted as unethical by at least someone else.

So ethics are as real as, well, as you choose to make them. 

Rules are meant to be followed.  In any system or game, what's not explicitly forbidden is at least tacitly allowed, even if it's frowned upon or considered in bad taste.  It's called doing what it takes to succeed.  So when businesspeople follow their own narrow self-interest, like doctors who don't have much time for making nice-nice with patients, they're doing what they're supposed to do, according to the rules. 

Further, we take ethics for granted, much like we used to approach the environment: they're just there, outside of the market, and a moderating influence insomuch as you might choose to dump your pollution there...or take cues therefrom for your business behavior.  Its actual cost, or the cost of the risk inherent in depending on it, doesn't get expressed as real numbers in any equation. 

So I wonder whether we should be mad a business leaders for doing what's expected of them?  If we expect something more, it should be articulated and, if it's important enough, required. 

I think this is why I have such a problem with the CSR movement; it's just window dressing or, worse, like putting lipstick on a pig.  Marketers let themselves get lulled into a false sense of relevance when management tasks them with making symbolic gestures in the name of ethical behavior.  It's not ethical anything.  It's a lie.

Such actions should have dollar signs attached to them, so everyone can value them accordingly; if they truly matter, and are truly ethical, then people should be willing to pay for them.  Otherwise, we're just talking about a market externality, and you can't depend on, nor can you truly value, ethical behavior. 

And that's just worthless.