摘錄自:天下雜誌 經濟學人電子報 2013/2/14
2014-02-07 Web only 作者:經濟學人
英國作家艾米斯(Kingsley
Amis)非常受不了做作的啤酒廣告,他認為啤酒廣告只要三樣東西就夠了:啤酒的名字、岳母跌倒的照片,以及「讓你喝醉」這句廣告標語。
今日,廣告比艾米斯那時更要做作,但站在可憐的廣告人的角度想一想吧;廣告產業正處於艱難時刻,品牌轟炸已經讓消費者疲倦不堪,消費者也越來越熟悉行銷技巧,廣告人不但得對付各種新的廣告管道,還得在這個懷疑時代精巧地發送廣告訊息。
在西方社會,消費者對權威人士的敬重程度已經越來越低,他們對品牌的信任亦是如此。行銷機構Havas Media指出,過去30年,消費者對品牌的信任程度都在下滑。
部分廣告人相信,認清消費者的懷疑態度可以化作優勢。First Bank在廣場上放了新沙發和電視,還寫了個大大的「免費」標示,往來的人群全都無視這個禮物,接著就有個聲音說道:「如果免費真的是『免費』呢?」
廣告業的聖杯就是與消費者成為朋友。過去,企業會盡一切可能強調權威和可靠性,現在,越來越多企業想傳達的是親切感,它們選用輕鬆好記的企業名稱,並利用許多聰明的方法讓一般人替它們的產品代言。
許多企業希望能更進一步,完全跳過傳統的廣告宣傳。除了口碑行銷外,尼爾森(Nielsen)的研究亦顯示,社群媒體和線上論壇中的陌生人建議,現在也被人視作信任來源,足以與傳統的付費媒體匹敵。
因此,企業已開始試圖形塑公眾對話。廣告主在嘗試接觸消費者的新方法之時,自然很容易引發反效果;企業大多希望自己的宣傳可以在社群媒體上被分享和評論,但只要少數幾個人產生反感,負面效應就有可能如野火般蔓延。
艾米斯看出了廣告人的問題:他們太想展現智慧,因而忘掉了一些單純的事實,例如啤酒的主要目的。今日的問題則是,廣告人急於打破懷疑之際,反而可能更加強化了消費者心中的懷疑。(黃維德譯)
©The Economist Newspaper Limited 2014
The Economist
Schumpeter
We want to be your friend
By The Economist
From The Economist
Published: February 07, 2014
Feb 1st 2014 | From the print edition
Brands are finding it hard to adapt to an age of scepticism.
ONE of Kingsley Amis's many bêtes noires was pretentious advertisements
for beer. The poet laureate of alcohol thought that all such ads needed were
three things: the name of the beer, a picture of a mother-in-law falling over
and the slogan: "Makes You Drunk". These days advertisements are even
more pretentious than they were when Amis was harrumphing. Guinness's blather
on about the true nature of human character, and so on.
But spare a thought for the poor admen. Their industry is going through
a particularly difficult time. Not only are they confronting a proliferation of
new "channels" through which to pump their messages; they are also
having to puzzle out how to craft them in an age of mass scepticism. Consumers
are bombarded with brands wherever they look—the average Westerner sees a logo
(sometimes the same one repeatedly) perhaps 3,000 times each day—and thus are
becoming jaded. They are also increasingly familiar with the tricks of the
marketing trade and determined to cut through the clutter to get a bargain.
Scepticism and sophistication are especially pronounced among those born since
the early 1980s. A study by the Boston Consulting Group found that 46% of
American "millennials" use their smartphones to check prices and
online comments when they visit a shop.
In Western societies particularly, respect for traditional voices of
authority—from priests to political leaders—has eroded. So has their faith in
brands. Havas Media, a big marketing agency, says trust in them has been
declining for three decades. Last August it published the latest in a series of
worldwide surveys, in which 134,000 consumers in 23 countries were asked what
they thought of 700 brands. A majority of those taking part would not care if
73% of them just vanished. In Europe and America 92% would not be missed. Only
in places like Asia and Latin America, with lots of newish consumers, is there
a bit more attachment to brands, though Havas Media reports that it is
declining there too.
Some advertisers think there is an advantage in acknowledging
consumers' scepticism. An ad for FirstBank, of Colorado, showed a new leather
sofa and television in the middle of a square, with a large sign saying:
"Free". People strolled by, ignoring the bounty. A voice-over asks: "What
if 'free' really just meant 'free'?" A second method is to drown the
scepticism with humour: a depressing number of brands nowadays rely on chirpy
talking animals. A third is to disarm it with honesty. In 2009 Dominos launched
a campaign featuring consumers talking about how awful its pizzas had been for
the past 50 years. Then there is do-goodery: innumerable brands argue that the
best way to save the planet or help the poor is to buy their products.
The holy grail of advertising is to make friends with the consumer.
Companies used to do everything possible to convey authority and reliability.
They adopted solid-sounding names like Bank of America or Fidelity and employed
authoritative figures like doctors and dentists to deliver their
"messages". Now they are more interested in conveying chumminess.
They are giving themselves jolly names like Wonga, Giffgaff and Ally. They are
also finding clever ways to persuade ordinary people to endorse their products.
Coca-Cola filmed students reacting with delight when one of its vending
machines dispensed not just free soft drinks but also free pizza and bunches of
flowers.
Many companies want to go further and bypass conventional ad campaigns
altogether. It has long been known that "earned media"—word-of-mouth
recommendations from friends, family and news articles—are highly trusted.
Nielsen's studies show that strangers' comments on social media and online
forums are also now seen as credible sources, rivalling traditional "paid
media". So companies are seeking to shape the public conversation about
their products. Some have done it clumsily, planting fake reviews on consumer
websites or paying bloggers to eulogise them. Others have been more subtle.
Mercadona, a big Spanish retailer, is a master of word-of-mouth advertising. In
2005-06 it invited close to half a million women to visit its refurbished
cosmetics departments, offering advice and free samples. Its sales have grown
rapidly, despite Spain's recession-ravaged economy.
It is all too easy for advertisers to mess up when trying out new ways
to reach consumers, and affecting an irreverent tone of voice. Hyundai, a
carmaker, suffered a backlash when it produced an online ad, in the hope that
it would go "viral", in which it sought to demonstrate its vehicles'
lack of noxious emissions by depicting someone attempting suicide. Companies
often hope their campaigns will be shared and commented on in social media,
giving a multiplier effect to their ad spending. But if just a few people find
the ads objectionable, the offence-taking can spread like wildfire. KFC found
this out when it ran a viral campaign for boneless chicken pieces with the
slogan, "I ate the bones": it triggered a vibrant online discussion,
but much of it was about whether the ads were racist or sexually suggestive.
Trouser worship
Combating the public's scepticism and mistrust is made all the more
difficult by the existence of a powerful counter-current in some people's
attitude to brands: a loyalty that can sometimes verge on idolatry. Those
supposedly streetwise, sceptical millennials seem more willing than
baby-boomers to follow the recommendations of celebrities, or to kid themselves
that by wearing this or that brand they will help save the world. Yet they are
fickle, and may turn against their favourites in an instant if others seem to
be doing so. Amis recognised one problem for advertisers: that they were so
intent on appearing clever that they forgot simple truths, such as beer's main
purpose. The problem today is that they may be so keen on dispelling scepticism
that they end up reinforcing it.
©The Economist Newspaper Limited 2014
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