20070815

I call shenanigans. Yahoo's news photos describe the above picture: "An elderly Iraqi woman shows two bullets which she says hit her house following an early coalition forces raid in the predominantly Shiite Baghdad suburb of Sadr City."

Now, for what this is worth, I'm no expert in ballistics. Still, I've drawn enough gunfights in during Math, History and English while I was in high school, to have some idea about how bullets work. I also have a working knowledge of how to use Wikipedia. That's how I found this:

You see? That shiny gold cylindrical part of the bullet that the lady is morosely holding up? That means those two bullets have yet to be fired. Because after firing, the pointy tip-part (the projectile) leaves the shiny gold cylinder (the casing, which holds the propellant) behind, near whoever shot the bullet (unless they move).

So yeah, maybe that lady's house did get shot twice (bad house!), but shame on Agence France-Presse for trying to dupe people with lame captions.

20070723

So I've got a question. A few days ago, I posted that thing responding to an article about how Diesel's advertising campaign was damaging the counter-hegemonic resistance by convincing potential resistors to simply look the look without either talking the talk or walking the walk. As I elucidated, I had problems with the article's conclusions.

Still, it made me think and that's good. And so I wondered at how advertising affects me, personally. Whether a Diesel-like advertisement, something slick and witty and cynical, could draw me to prefer a brand over another. And so, I've got a question.

Do you find that you are yourself influenced by advertising? And how so or why not?

For my own personal answer to the question, I'll say that I am not largely affected by advertising. Now, to be sure, I will certainly purchase things I see advertised, but generally they are the kinds of things that I already have desire for but just did not know the product was available.* Like when I see that Brian K. Vaughan is releasing a new series or that Valve is releasing a new episode of Half-Life content. But then, it doesn't even need to be any sort of flashy ad or anything for stuff like that to sell me. Just seeing the words "RockStar is planning to release GTA IV" is enough to sell me on the upcoming game. I "fall" to advertising that hocks what I would buy anyway; so I don't really consider that a loss.

The other way advertising affects me is that it alerts me to new products that will be made available to my discerning mind. This, in itself, can never sell me on a product. It can, however, induce me to research a product. When I heard someone mention BioShock, I thought, Great. Another mediocre games that everyone's getting crazy excited about. Still, there was enough buzz that I thought I'd check it out for myself. I watched demos, production trailers, read about the game—and only after all that does it seem like a game I wouldn't mind purchasing. It was the same with World of Warcraft. I saw an ad and heard some hype. I wasn't interested in purchasing but was intrigued enough to check it out. Videos, reviews, analyses. A lot of stuff went into my decision to purchase a game that initially sounded utterly unappetizing. So, while the advertisement did have some influence (i.e., it alerted me to the product's existence), it certainly didn't sell me on the product.

Advertising, I guess, just rings hollow for me. I don't purchase image. I don't buy into what is being sold. Even though I can really appreciate the work and ingenuity that goes into many advertising campaigns, my appreciation of irony or cynicism or wit doesn't make a repped company's product any more enticing to me. I might buy Diesel's jeans if their models look comfortable in the clothes and when I see them in the store the clothes still look comfortable. And if I appreciate the aesthetic vibe I get from the clothing (this is only image in the mundane sense, not the identity sense). At best, traditional advertising can alert me to something for further inspection. At worst, it can make a product look entirely unappetizing.

Funny that. Advertising can't win me over but it can alienate me.

I will say this, however, there is a kind of advertising that when properly achieved, swims so seamlessly into the conscious mind that it cannot be detected or reacted against. Recently, they've called it viral marketing (probably when its a direct and definable operation by a campaign), but in reality, it's just word of mouth. In this way, I may actually be more affected by advertising than I think. For instance, if a number of people are sucked into a product via advertising, then it's entirely likely that they will talk about the product with friends and acquaintances. The more people are talking favourably about a product, the more likely it is that the person non plussed by the advertising will actually be willing to give the product a shot. While I can't note any purchases that I have recently made that could have been introduced through a concerted effort by companies to virally market, I can point to at least one example by which a specific product became known to me as the one I wanted (almost wholly upon reputation of the product as conveyed by others).

My Vespa. This was the biggest purchase I'd made in recent years. Nearing six thousand dollars. And while I'm pretty happy with the purchase, it's rather curious why I didn't research other company's scooters at the time of purchase. I wanted a Vespa, plain and simple. Someone told me I could get a Honda for a couple thousand less and I simply responded with, "That's okay. I want an Italian job." Why exactly was that?

If I look back, my (along with many Americans') first experience of the Italian motorscooter involved Gregory Peck as he raced around in Roman Holiday. For some, that was enough (just like the explosion of Mini Coopers in recent years rests solely on the shoulders of The Bourne Identity and The Italian Job). For me, it was merely one among many sparks. Then there was a good friend a few years back who was dying for a Vespa. I think her interest was infectious. And I really can't guess what influenced her, though I'd hazard that the slick European image the vehicle conveys wouldn't be wholly excluded from the formula. One more seed. After that, I started seeing them zipping around my beach community. They looked fun and convenient. One more step. Then I read the works of Chynna Clugston, Blue Monday and Scooter Girl and I was sold (even though in Scooter Girl, one of the top bikes was a Lambretta, not a Vespa... I had mistakenly imagined that Lambretta was just a model of Vespa).

A few months later, my car blew up (nearly blew up for reals. I am lucky to not be crisped) and I was in the market for new transportation. So I did research. I read all about Vespas and their gas mileage, power, and reliability. I went down to the showroom a few times. I checked forums and websites. I read up on the history of the company. I made an informed choice. And yet...

I still hadn't checked into any other brand of motorscooter. For some reason, in my head, there was only one worthy brand—if scooters were worthy at all (and they are!). The Wasp. The Vespa. The Italian lines and style. It had to be the Excalibur grey LX150 that I drive to work every day. And while I can't attribute that purchase to traditional advertising in any immediate sense (as I've never actually seen a Vespa advertisement), word of mouth and a general cultural aura about the thing** infiltrated me and opened my wallet.

So then, how 'bout you? What kind of advertising works on you?

*NOTE: An interesting subject for discussion some day would be the validity of my saying that I desire things of which I am unaware.

**NOTE: It's fascinating how often I get comments along the lines of "Oh wow! Is that a Vespa? I've wanted one of those since I was a teenager!" and "Man, those are among the coolest looking things on the road today." I have to admit that while I don't know what kind of image (identity) a Vespa betrays, I do admit to enjoying the feeling of riding around on one.

20070719

Johnny T, in his infinite graciousness, has provide to both The Kilted One and I an article worthy of both consideration and discussion. It boasts an interesting premise, a broaching analysis of big business's interest in propping up the hegemony through its various advertising campaigns. This one, specifically, deals with Generation X—a generation whose boundary I just chin-hairingly squeak into. If at all.*

The name of the article (or chapter in a book, really, was "The Diesel Jeans and Workwear Advertising Campaign and the Commodification of Resistance." It was penned by the ever-dapper Daniel R. Nicholson.

Nicholson uses his allotted space to rail against big advertising for its part in supporting the hegemony by pretending to support the resistance, thereby drawing resistors from the ranks of the truly resistant and into the hegemonic fold. He does this by analyzing Diesel's entertainingly sly marketing campaign in the early '90s that went by the nomenclature, Successful Living (though I guess that particular identity transferred to the brand generally). Nicholson supports counter-hegemony activism and believes that by marketing the so-called lifestyle of such activism, Diesel is in fact actively stripping (or actively stripped since this was written in the early '90s) Generation X of their lives of resistance by simply replacing life with a lifestyle.

What the Hegemony Is It?
It may be worthwhile here to describe, define, or otherwise elucidate on the term hegemony.

It's not a terminology I use often. Or really, ever. Essentially though, hegemony is a form of consensual control. Police states use the threat of force or violence to keep the populous under control; hegemonies on the other hand, are according to Nicholson "a sort of society-wide agreement which attempts to maintain a social order among the various members of society." Part of Nicholson's problem with hegemonies is that despite any influx of good will on the part of the participants, a society itself will continue to oppress certain members of the society. These victims are subordinated by various and almost discernible uses of power by the dominant group of victimizers.

The creation and disbursement of pop-culture, says Nicholson, is one of the many forms that the power of the dominant group influences the subordinate. "Hegemony occurs when the subordinate group acquiesces and accepts the 'reality' produced and then maintained by a dominant group." And so, Nicholson supports counter-hegemony.

Counter-hegemony, then, focus on personal and continued enlightenment and, once enlightened, action based upon the truths learned. Counter-hegemony is based wholly on the discontent that full-comprehension ideally must engender. Nicholson relies on the theory that analysis of pop-culture is itself counter-hegemonic and will result in both discontentment and the resultant action.

While I think there's some bits of the view worthy of critique (not the least of which is the elitism and appeal to a popularity upon which Nicholson relies**), I'm not really going to be talking about that today. Instead I'd like to focus on Nicholson's points that a) Diesel is commodifying resistance and b) this is a danger to the resistance.

Commodifying the Resistance?
To the first point, Nicholson does well with his analysis of several magazine advertisements in which Diesel vies for the disinterested interest of the cynical, hopeful Generation X. I found his perspective fascinating and think he did a great job pointing out exactly what Diesel was trying to do: sell the Generation X lifestyle to twenty-somethings.

In the early '90s it was discovered that twenty-somethings, those in the generation called X, seemed jaded and rather immune to the advertising formulae that worked well in the Cosby decade, the boisterous big-hair and yuppie-driven '80s. After growing up with commercial after commercial fraught with promises that could not be delivered, my generation grew to resent marketing and saw through the lie of most of it. At least on the surface of it anyway.

So advertising changed. It became more obscure. More self-deprecating. Harder to understand. Not that there hadn't been this kind of advertising all along, but it seemed to take on a renewed vigour in the face of a cynical market - exactly the kind of disillusioned consumers to whom such advertising flourishes. Gen-Xers supposedly found joy and accomplishment from deconstructing smart ads. That joy transformed into interest in a company that cared enough about them to market directly at their obscure, self-referential, and devastatingly witty needs. Or something like that.

And so advertisers duped Generation X into becoming consumers and supporting the hegemony just like advertisers tricked their parents and uncles into doing the same. Only this time they did it by preying upon the very thing that could set them apart from prior generations: their discontent and resistance to a society that wronged them. Nicholson pins this on advertisers like Diesel, who capitalize on the desire to be resistant.

The thing is, I don't think advertisers like Diesel are to blame for the commodification of Generation X.

Nicholson laments here, that because these kids weren't savvy enough, they were getting swindled by a fashion industry into believing that just looking the part would be enough. The thing is, it wasn't Diesel who commodified the resistance. Diesel only capitalized on the existing commodification. The commodification began the moment someone gave the generation a name.

It was the coinage of the term that was the culprit. The moment someone first said that Generation X was _______, then suddenly there was this identity to live up to. What? I'm supposed to be apathetic, disillusioned, cynical, wry? Well, I better get crackin' then! Generation X is what's cool, so I better look and play and smell the part. Goodbye mascara and hairspray! Hello bedhead! Goodbye vinyl! Hello flannel! Gotta look the part, gotta play the part. I don't know what ennui means, but I can learn, I can adapt.

The identity was not commodified by Diesel Jeans or any other advertiser. They merely noted the ongoing commodification and marketed toward those who would be attracted to such commodification.

Danger to No One Worth Saving
Those who revelled in the identity, those who even cared about the identity, were never Generation X (in its most proper form). They were hangers-on. Wannabes. They are the people who would shop a Hot Topic today in order to be so very punk, so very scene. And if there's one thing cooler than being cooler, it's eschewing coolness at every opportunity and relishing in one's outcast status. There is no one so ineffably hip than the person who is hated by the society for which he toils.***

Part of Nicholson's definition for Generation X is that they really and truly do not care. That person is not in any way going to be affected by the Diesel campaign. And if they do buy Diesel Jeans it won't be because they want to look the part.

Nicholson worries that by selling a resistance-lifestyle, Diesel is robbing people from truly living as a resistant and prompting them to think looking the part is okay. The thing is, none of those who care about looking the part were ever a part of the resistance anyway. They might occasionally play the part of the noble counter-hegemonic influence, but really? They're probably just doing it to get chicks. And I assure you, Daniel R. Nicholson, losing the wannabe to Value Commodification is no loss to your cause. If anything, Diesel is doing you a favour by giving the opposition Team Colours.

And really, this is besides the point anyway. As Nicholson points out, the true players for Generation X are not players at all. They don't care. They are apathetic. They've lost interest in politics, business, society. They are experiencing, as Nicholson says, weltschmerz: which is a "mental depression and apathy caused by comparison of the actual state of the world with an ideal state." So in the end, who cares if Diesel is sucking Genexers into its tractor beam of capitalism and hegemony? It's not like they cared enough to be the resistance anyway. Resistance entails hope and apathy is the enemy of hope.

Still though, I liked his analysis of the ads themselves. It was fun, in a Gen X sort of way.

*note: The early '70s seems to be the best estimated cut-off time for whatever we term Generation X, though some will place the cut-off as late as 1976. Later estimates (say... 1985?) seem to have one common failing: the proposed Genexers would only have been under twelve ('85ers would have been six) when the term came into vogue, describing a generation that was currently experiencing a deep ennui and generational cynicism resulting from the big lie of the '80s. These were supposedly twenty-somethings who found they didn't fit into the place the world had prepared for them. Twelve year-olds can't claim that particular conceit.

**note: At one point, Nicholson states the "the truly media literate will recognize that the advertisers of [the Diesel Jeans] campaign have appropriated the resistant, anti-establishment attitudes of Generation X and commodified them for the purpose of selling resistant, anti-establishment identities in order to make money for Diesel." So either you're "truly media literate" or you disagree with Nicholson and relegate yourself to the scrap pile of the media illiterate. Joy.

***note: The key to discerning the truly put-upon from the lookitmeI'msodowntrodden is that the truly put-upon is happy to be shown that things aren't as bad as all that while the wannabe relies so heavily on the idea that he is discontent that any and every effort to lighten or remove the cloud of ultra-hip despair that perches in a distinguished other-worldly hover above his head must and will be forcefully rebuffed. The wannabe is immune to reason for fear of the horrible possibility of removing his resistance-identity and replacing it with something slightly less discomforted and acquiescing (and therefore, less cool).

At Least I'm Still Smiling

We at Nowheresville, USA have a long and storied history of poking good-natured jabs at local churches who misuse their advertising dollar by sending out goofy flyers in the mail. Sometimes the problem is inappropriate stock photography that conveys a message slightly other than that which you would expect from a church. That isn't some kooky-but-way-fun cult. Other times, you have instances like today's, a church who probably used photos of real members (most of them don't look manicured enough to be stock art) but just couldn't get it together in editorial. The copy here reads: "What are these people smiling about?" The back side says "Because they are going to celebrate Easter at Mountain View Church!" Examine the flyer below and discover the disconnect between copy and visual.