Here’s a challenge for marketers everywhere: Start a drinking game based on the number of times anyone says brand purpose, then see if you can stay sober for more than thirty minutes a week.
(Who needs three-martini lunches with Don Draper when you can sneak a shot of tequila every time you go off-camera?)
For decades marketers were trained to apply the 4 P’s of marketing: product, price, place and promotion. Then a framework frenzy led to more P-words—weighty ones like people and performance—that needed at least a paragraph to explain. Soon we had 5 P’s, then 7, even 9, until finally there was one P to rule them all.
Purpose-led marketing became our new religion, and if you hadn’t been a convert before, the arrival of the pandemic (another P-word) convinced marketers they have to take a stand … on something. Anything, really, as long as it’s trending.
Now, before we paint an entire industry with a broad and cynical brush, it’s important to acknowledge that some brands pivoted beautifully during the early days of the pandemic, but most flooded the airwaves with sanctimonious solidarity. (The best parody of this can be seen around the 18-minute mark of Bo Burnham’s comedy special “Inside,” currently on Netflix.)
Marketers are behaving more and more like politicians—licking a finger to test the winds of popular opinion, then shoving their noses into the hornet’s nest of public discourse.
That isn’t purpose, that’s pandering.
And like politicians, brands find themselves up one day and plummeting the next, not only because consumers live across the full political spectrum, but because brands have no inherent credibility on most issues.
Read that last line again, because it’s important. Purpose is simply the extrapolation of why your company was founded in the first place—to make something better. Whatever that something is, focus on it and own it.
Patagonia has consistently gotten this right. It makes perfect sense that a brand dedicated to exploring the outdoors builds sustainability into its business, which lends credibility to everything from free lifetime repairs to “1% for the Planet.” It creates a halo of perceived value and lifetime loyalists.
Warby Parker makes affordable eyeglasses, so when they offer a helping hand to people in faraway places who can’t see, it seems both natural and inspiring. You become a customer and an advocate. Earned media raises awareness and the brand attracts new customers.
Purpose isn’t about companies looking beyond profit, as some Pollyanna prognosticators believe, it’s inextricably linked to a winning strategy. Henry Ford knew this when he paid his workers more—good for them and good for business, not a zero-sum game.
And your purpose isn’t a porpoise, moving with the tides of public opinion, jumping through hoops for our amusement. It should be immutable, unchanging and core to your business, not mine.
Despite the echo you hear inside our industry bubble, average consumers couldn’t care less what brands think about politics, any more than they care which Hollywood celebrity voted for which cardboard candidate. Real people with real lives don’t look to the stars for direction unless they’re sycophants or sailors.
The problem with purpose is never the intention, it’s the inconsistency. So if you want to champion LGBTQ+ rights or equal pay here in the U.S., please don’t pretend your products aren’t sold in countries where even discussing those issues in public is against the law. If you crow about sustainability and flood my feed with a bold plan to ban plastic straws, don’t leave out the toxic tidbits of your business in China. And next time you share a breathtaking video of your smartphone product design, add a behind-the-scenes clip of the mines where the rare-earth metals that power your phones actually come from, just for context.
Business is messy, and making things requires resources, labor and supply chains, some of which might not be as perfect as you’d hoped. That’s to be expected, so invest in fixing those things instead of marketing misdirection to persuade the public your product is pristine.
In other words, stop telling me what to think, who to vote for, when to march or why I should feel proud, sad or guilty.
You’re a brand, not my mother.
And here’s another idea: Do what we’re paying you to do. Make a good shoe. Arrive on time. Fix my car. Answer the damn phone. (Apple, I’m talking to you—your AI-voice assistant gives me the Heisman every time.)
A brand is a promise, so think of your purpose as a fulfillment of that promise. Making air travel more affordable. Connecting people. Building a safer car. Putting shoes on every pair of feet on the planet. Whatever your founding ambition might have been, big or small, aim for the stars and see where it takes you.
If every company did what it was founded to do and became the best version of itself, just imagine what a world that would be.
That sure sounds like a shared purpose to me.
Subscribe to Ad Age now for the latest industry news and analysis.
from WordPress https://ift.tt/3kKJsN5
via IFTTT
0 Comments