Editor’s note: The following is excerpted from Jef Loeb’s testimony last week before the U.S. House of Representatives’ Commerce Subcommittee on Telecommunications, Trade and Consumer Protection. The subcommittee is examining the controversy over the Office of National Drug Control Policy’s (ONDCP) alleged practice of rewarding TV networks for inserting anti-drug messages in their programming. The reward entailed freeing government-secured, anti-drug PSA media time so that networks could sell it to paid advertisers. Also under scrutiny is ONDCP’s alleged practice of reviewing scripts of a TV program before it has aired.
The events that provoked today’s hearing reflect the inevitable collision between three dynamic forces—the national interest in defeating a pernicious threat to public health and welfare; the evolution of 21st century marketing practice in a world where getting attention—much less making an impact—is increasingly daunting; and, most important, the role of government when it assumes the mantle of an advertiser.
In considering the results of this intersection, I would like to underscore my belief that what happened in no way, shape, or form, reflects any evil or malignant intent by the White House, ONDCP or any of its advertising advisors. Rather, it’s the product of people of good will going the proverbial bridge too far in pursuit of a very legitimate objective.
In that spirit, let’s begin by talking about the advertising underpinnings of this program—and why, from that limited perspective, ONDCP’s actions actually made a great deal of sense.
In our pop-culture world, most of us are familiar with the concept of "product placement." Whether it’s a can of soda placed in a movie scene or a manufacturer paying millions of dollars to make its car the star of the show, product placement is an inevitable feature of today’s entertainment industry. Advertisers use this tool for reasons ranging from building product awareness to creating favorable associations for their brands. After all, if James Bond drives the car, it must be cool.
This is particularly true for youth markets who, repeated studies have shown, often reject messages specifically targeted at them in the form of 30-second TV spots or magazine ads. The twin keys in reaching these groups seem to be creating the kind of aggressive ubiquity that allows Generations X and Y to "discover" and adopt the brand or the product on their own.
Of course, ONDCP’s mission isn’t to create a brand at all, but rather its diametrical opposite—call it an "anti-brand." So, logic suggests, if we know that product placement works in brand-building, why not try the inverse—having negative references about our "anti-brand" organically inserted into entertainment?
When [Web site] Salon broke the story about this program, I was caught by the thought that product placement is now commonplace—but this is the first example of anti-product placement in recent history.
In fact, it is an exceedingly clever notion. Let me assure you: if Coca-Cola were somehow able to magically persuade a network like NBC to have Jennifer Aniston from Friends reject a Pepsi in favor of a Coke, it would be hailed as an astonishing marketing coup.
But ONDCP isn’t Coke, it isn’t a company with products to sell, it isn’t even an advertiser in the ordinary sense. ONDCP is an arm of the federal government—and that is where the wheels begin to fall off on what otherwise would be regarded as an ingenious advertising innovation.
The question is: Do the advertising rules change when government is the sponsor? I submit to you that they do, and for two common-sense reasons. The first is rooted in the nature of nontraditional marketing tools like product placement. Creatively these are effective because they lend verity to the production, are sometimes unexpected, and from the audience standpoint, fundamentally nondirectional. Unlike conventional advertising, a product placement doesn’t say "think this, feel this, buy this." It only introduces us to the product in a context where it gains cachet. Audiences buy into the placement because they are more than well aware of the intent and are willing to accept its intrusion.
In this instance, however, "anti-product placement" has one other, more opportune but less fortunate, attribute: the fact of persuasion is not only non-disclosed, but invisible to any member of the audience who hasn’t happened to read the congressional record.
This lack of disclosure leads to a second, and far more transcendent, concern: If it’s OK for the government to engage in undisclosed marketing tactics when it comes to drugs, how about tobacco? If it’s OK for tobacco, how about teen pregnancy? If it’s OK for teen pregnancy, how about any of a hundred other issues that could legitimately lay claim to the national interest? And if it’s OK for the Federal Government, how about the states? After all, in most states, lotteries are established to support public education.
Most important, and of greatest concern: this precedent is set now; what about the future? Will an administration with vastly different predilections—and the ability to rally sufficient Congressional support—be able to utilize these tools on subjects like abortion or religion or lifestyles?
It all comes down to this: there is a bright but exceedingly fine line between promotion and propaganda when government attempts to influence public behaviors or attitudes.
In light of the stakes involved in many of these issues, a democratic society can and should embrace the former, and utterly reject the latter.
At the outset of this presentation, I characterized this situation as a collision between national interests that often justify government stepping out from behind the bully pulpit to use tools like advertising to promote the welfare of its citizens; the demands of marketing efficacy in the 21st century; and the role of government as an advertiser.
None of these forces ever needs to come into conflict again, if the Congress sets and lives by three policies. The first must be strict avoidance of any action that would promote the reality or the appearance of exerting pressure on the creative content of programming. Even the perception of such activities is crippling—a vital point when you realize that advertising is as much about perception as it is reality. And that government’s mission in these exercises is to create perceptions that motivate and lead to positive actions.
Second, whenever the government is involved, a rule of strict disclosure must be enforced. It’s already normal in TV spots and print ads. It should become standard in titles and credits that follow movies and television shows, where appropriate.
Third, I would suggest that those who have an oversight role in these matters also need to be informed about the involved dynamics. According to the news stories I have read, this all occurred as part of the typical bargaining that attends most network buys. If you are going to pass judgment on the efficacy of those purchases, you may be well advised to have your own experts on call to evaluate the proposal.
These are not earth-shaking recommendations. Nor do they imply that the government needs to shut off the creative wellsprings of its advertising agencies and advisors. In fact, ONDCP’s revised policy itself may well represent a pragmatic solution to this complex problem.
But in the fluid, ever-changing and always negotiable world of marketing, extreme care must be taken to ensure that government never steps over the bright line from promotion to propaganda—which, in the end, is what this particular issue is all about.
