I wanted to make that clear as you and I engage in this conversation about “sustainability.” Advertising is intrinsic to consumerism and, as you know, consumerism is about creating desire. I am very happy in this environment. I like advertising, I enjoy helping create it, and I enjoy being associated with strong businesses that are growing. Strong businesses are important. I grew up in Manchester, England, in the seventies. Let me tell you, you learn a lot about the importance of strong businesses when they are in short supply. So I come at this question of sustainability from that place. I am not an environmentalist in the classic sense. I have not dedicated my life to protecting our environment, though I have huge respect for those who have.
One of the big inventions of consumerism is the brand. We all intuitively know what I mean when I talk about brand. Yet there are as many different perspectives on what brands are as there are brand owners. It may help if I share with you the way I think about brands. I think of brands as business ideas that have achieved cultural influence. Big brands influence culture in a big way, small brands in a small way.
What interests me about this perspective is that it hinges on two huge ideas. The first is that a brand is a “business idea,” and the second is the notion of cultural influence.
Let’s talk first about a business idea. There has been a lot of work done on this subject. On the one hand, you can focus on the business model. The business model is all about the way a business creates wealth. For the last few years many young technology entrepreneurs have been presenting their business models to venture capitalists for investment. The VC looks at their presentation and asks two questions: “Is this a good business model that will generate a return on my investment?” and “Is this person likely to do it for me?” The business model is about capitalism. It is about return on investment. It is about the commodity. In one of its most refined forms, the business model’s effectiveness hinges on the financial value ascribed to relationships. This is the way capitalism renders everything as a commodity to be bought and sold. For example, the value of AOL exists within the relationships created by the service. These relationships are then exploited to create wealth.
The problem with this way of thinking about business is that it underrepresented the social and cultural role of business. When Time Warner merged with AOL, what kind of business would be created as a consequence? Is AOL’s commodity its relationships with people, like my daughter at her iMac in her bedroom, to be traded as, well, just any other stuff? I understand that the contents of, for example, an oil field are an easy commodity to understand, or the value of owning land, or the ability to make a fine automobile or…but wait. Things are looking harder as I go through that list.
In the film Wall Street we are introduced to Gordon Gecko (remember “lunch is for wimps”?) The film reveals the way business commoditizes everything within a capitalist system. The futures of the workers’ lives are in the hands of traders who care little and understand less about them. The young adventurer ends up in a limo with a beautiful woman who informs him that he has earned a reward from Gecko—her. The film uncovers the ugly truth about pure capitalism: the human experience is simply another commodity to be traded for financial gain.
It need not be so. In fact, some experts in the field of business analysis suggest that a pure focus on the capital aspects of business is a deeply flawed way of thinking about how business works and how businesses can succeed in the long run. Some early pioneers of consumer businesses seemed to understand this: Ford, Kohler, Cadbury, and Lever, to name a few. In their world, business was an integral part of society. The role of the business was not only to generate wealth for the business owner but to create opportunity for all who engaged in the business transaction, from the entry-level employee to the most distant customer.
Business is a process, not an entity. It is entirely the product of relationships. Technology has helped business operate at a global scale. Consequently, as business became more complex, embracing a multitude of human relationships and organizing them into systems driven by economic models, the perceived value of human relationships was eroded. In essence, humanity has begun to serve capital rather than the other way around. Capitalism has been a great system, unleashing the innovative powers of the human mind, the creativity of the human spirit; but capital is not the ends, it is the means. Today we find ourselves in a difficult situation: the success of capitalism has concealed the erosion of the basic underpinnings of business—human relationships. Capitalism has bred corporatism, which has enabled good organization but has also removed personal responsibility from business planning.
The emergence of corporatism as the dominant ethic of business analysis is recent and will be transient. Kees van der Heijden made the following observation in his book Scenarios: The Art of Strategic Conversation: “We define structural profit potential as an attribute of a system capable of creating value for customers in a unique way that others find difficult to emulate.”
To repeat: profit is an attribute of a system. Obviously, every business wants to make money, but it also has many other attributes, and if this attribute becomes the sole purpose of the business and drives every business decision it has the effect of commoditizing everything—including people. Business exists to serve human needs and desires, not capital requirements. The levels of growth preceding the dot-com crash in the United States were obscene. Growing capital became the sole reason to invent business ideas. And how many of those ideas still exist today? A business designed only to grow capital is far more likely to create distress and cause destruction than one within which the total value of the business, its role in the lives of the people involved with it, is the purpose.
Many who have started small businesses or are part of family enterprises understand this deeply. Those who have lived through harsh times in Flint, Michigan, or Liverpool, England, are also aware of this simple, human truth.
In America there is the extraordinary situation that the food industry now produces far more calories on a daily basis than are needed (or really wanted) by each and every American. Do we really need access to donuts when we buy gas? Is it really a good idea to commoditize food so absolutely that America is the only country in the world where the relatively poor are relatively fatter? Where the rich pay more to consume less? This is a corruption of the role of business. Corporate capitalism is founded on the idea of growth, not growth in the holistic, developmental sense, but growth as in “Get bigger!” This seems to me to be at odds with what I hear coming from the hearts and minds of people I talk to around the world. They are interested in sustaining and developing their lives, their cultures, their families, their cities, their minds, and so on. It is not about getting bigger, it is about getting better. A worker in a factory in Vietnam dreams of improving the lives of his or her family, that the kids will be educated and enjoy a risk-free, healthy life. This is a dream of development, it is human, and to be nourished by business, not exploited and dashed. It is central to the concept of the “business idea” as opposed to the “business model.”
What seems to be happening as we enter the next phase of our economic evolution is that many of these chickens are coming home to roost. Businesses that focused solely on maximizing financial return on investment (ROI) seem to have become disconnected from their customers, their employees, and their shareholders. This powerful alliance—with many individuals participating in all three experiences—can be credited with driving a fundamental change in the environment for business in the twenty-first century.
Information technology has stimulated the creation of a culture of knowledge and it is sweeping the world. In the culture of knowledge, everything seems knowable and everyone wants to know. From the vicarious experience of survival to a basic understanding of the capitalist system and its attendant marketing habits, people feel smart and informed. And guess what? They are.
The world of marketing and the world of brands have been rocked by these changes. Nothing seems to work quite as it used to, which brings me on to that idea of “cultural influence.” It turns out that the degree to which businesses engaged with their public, creating relationships that either sustained, evolved, or eroded value, was linked less to their ability to create powerful business models and more to their ability to create valuable relationships. Now, this is news to many in the MBA world of US consumer marketing, but it is an unquestioned fact of life in Asia and Europe. Here’s what happened: as marketing mechanized the process of relationship management, the consumer got less emotional value out of the relationship.
The spreadsheet was invented in the early eighties. The power of the spreadsheet is that it renders very complex mathematics into simple actions. Spreadsheets revolutionized the stock market. The measurement of things became simple. Anything and everything can be measured. The complexity of society, the complexity of war, the complexity of the mind, all seems measurable. Marketing was a craft, a creative act (the Jolly Green Giant predated spreadsheets, as did Snap, Crackle, and Pop), it was about individuals imagining the relationship they could create between a business and a customer, then going about the business of creating that relationship. The advent of the “anything can be measured” philosophy meant that business became mediated by measurement technology rather than human experience. Numbers on a research chart were supposed to reveal the reality of customer behavior. This approach is so pervasive that many of the most corporate businesses have lost all real connection to the customer. They simply do not know the people they rely on to sustain their business. The customer has tired of this; it feels abusive. I constantly hear the word “corporate” used to explain loss of human contact. The relationship between consumers and business has been deeply eroded.
Customers simply reduced the amount of money they were willing to pay for the relationship they had with what they perceive to be amoral marketing companies. These companies are not bad, but they are sort of culturally autistic. By remaining unable to engage with consumers as human beings with rich cultural lives and complex social environments they are unable to communicate. Thus, they tended to scream and become abusive the more they craved and needed consumer attention. We see the results of cultural autism on our screens every day: persistently aggravating advertising that sends manifestly corrupt messages into our homes.
But in the culture of knowledge, the consumer knows and is rebelling. Recent research we have been involved in at Wieden + Kennedy (W+K) has begun to highlight what is going on. We were interested in the evolving relationship between the consumer and big business. We had already come to the view that the brand was a surrogate for the business idea, and that if we were to evolve and grow the brands we worked on, we needed to understand more deeply what they symbolized and how people were relating to them.
As part of one study, I was in Tokyo talking to a producer of Japanese hip-hop records about the idea of being “modern.” I mention this because in some ways the transcendent themes of the modern experience were there to be witnessed within that conversation. He was twenty-six. I was forty-two. He was from Tokyo. I was from Manchester. Yet we were both intimately aware of and engaged with the work of Ian Anderson and the Designers Republic. When I asked him, through our excellent translator (who herself had lived in Kensington, London, only three blocks away from my old home), how he perceived the idea of modern and where he saw culture evolving, he said, “To a more mental place.” He went on to discuss in depth the fact that products have narratives as well as benefits. We know about the ways of these products, the whole story. From the vantage point of someone born in 1975, business had to engage with the whole truth of consumerism. That involved two important and related realities: Firstly, that unsustainable consumption would destroy everything we have and could have, and secondly, that the consumer experience was deeper and richer than is ever acknowledged by mainstream marketing.
As we travel the world and talk to people for all types of reasons these themes emerge. Big business is not perceived to be a de facto problem: it is the lack of imagination, creativity, and responsibility within the idea of corporate business that sucks. Brands are seen as manifestations of, and as surrogates for, the business people that create them. The consumer wants—no, demands—a relationship with those people. A young media entrepreneur from Brazil said, “I just have one question: Who are you?”
And who can answer that simple question? The emergence of a culture of knowledge that is global in scale due to the attendant networking that now defines communication and social interaction has brought the real issues facing our postindustrial-age culture to the fore. Brands can no longer survive on a diet of artificial benefit creation or the assumption that somehow we are dysfunctional and need to be “fixed.” We, the individuals who consume, whose money oils the wheels of corporate capitalism, are not broken. We don’t need to be fixed. We, to paraphrase an old Subaru ad I was involved in, don’t need to use what we consume to increase our standing with our neighbors. We can relate to the size and shape of our bodies in a way that helps us enjoy the life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness promised in our Constitution. We do not need products to be symbols of empowerment: we have power. We do not aspire to manufactured dreams that reduce our capacity to feel individual. In short, nearly every branding tactic of the past will fail in the future.
This is because the nature of the transaction between consumers and businesses has moved on.
The cultural role of brands is to respond to the spirit of the times. In the early 1930s, when Coke employed Norman Rockwell, the company transcended its role as a purveyor of refreshment and became deeply embedded in the emerging identity of American consumerism. These values were to sweep the world: optimism, faith in the possibility of harmonious diversity, and egalitarianism. In an era when students were being shot at Kent State and carpet bombing was destroying the lives of hundreds of thousands of people on the Southeast Asian peninsula, Coke tried to “teach the world to sing…in perfect harmony.” Like it or hate it, it was an attempt to project more than the benefit of refreshment. Its power lay in the confidence with which it voiced its perspective.
If we were to respond today we would respond to the culture of corporate repulsion. By which I mean this: the transcendent themes of new consumers emerge from their experience as the progeny of the consumer age. They have known little else. They have engaged with and then experienced the emotional hollowness of the consumer promise: that what you buy dictates how well you feel. They still felt bad when things didn’t go right. They have learned through experience that promises are shallow and that there must be an ulterior motive for everything. Some would say that they are cynical. But I don’t believe that they are. I believe that they are aware.
As today’s consumers view the world they are aware of how everything is all linked together. They did media studies in elementary school. They watched Sesame Street and learned about ecology from the movie Ferngully. What seems to be the case is that they have a different narrative than previous generations of consumers. Their narrative embraces their position within a complex and interlinked world. As millions of kids swap banalities yet create networks of relationships on AOL Instant Messenger, they understand only too well the power of causality: that what you do has an effect, somewhere.
They are translating that experience into their lives as consumers. In fact, they are rethinking the ways they consume. Rather than be trapped within the manufactured aspirations of the mass market, they are seeking to create experiences that connect them in a meaningful way to ideas and ideals that are worth something. They take control over their futures by taking control over their expectations. And, talking about futures, they are very concerned about the legacy of wanton, excessive consumerism practiced by the previous generation. In their view, they have inherited the consequences of consumption for consumption’s sake with scant regard for the long-term future of either themselves or their children. Or, to put it another way, scant regard for meaningful human relationships and responsibilities.
Surveys such as those by Yankelovich have for years directed our attention to the evolution of a fresh perspective on consumption among the young. Well, it seems to be here, and if you are in any doubt you only need to look at the fortunes of the Fortune 500—the near total collapse of the great marketing brands as they surrendered to the ultimate commoditizing business: Walmart. What happened to Kellogg, McDonald’s, P&G, Coke, Oldsmobile, and a host of others is that they ceased to maintain and develop a dynamic business idea that intersected with the values of their customers. The brand is the manifestation of that relationship; as I have said, it is surrogate. Van der Heijden would refer to this as a squandering of two things: distinctive competencies and a dynamic relationship with customers. Over time the values of our consumers evolve and competitors emulate our core competencies, delivering them for less cost and reducing distinctiveness.
There are two distinct developments, one in the realm of competencies and one in the realm of consumer evolution, that threaten established brand owners who fail to create a dynamic model for brand and business development. First, we need to acknowledge that the singular pursuit of capital growth has thwarted attempts at creating a sustainable model of consumerism. Technology has been evolving at a hair-raising rate but business models have not. Detroit and the oil industry remain locked in a death grip grounded in the idea of exploitation for enrichment. The consequence: a pathetic response to increasing anxiety regarding all forms of pollution and near indifference to the issue of gradually disappearing resources. The automobile industry has been the bellwether of all consumerism but seems intent on donating that leadership to other categories that more effectively respond to the spirit of this age.
At a time when technology is delivering the means to reduce the impact of the car on our environment, Detroit is marketing machines that speak to the command-and-control exploitation culture of the past: the Lincoln Navigator, the Chevrolet Suburban. This is seventies technology, but more importantly this is seventies culture. It is about dominance, power, exploitation, and it is deeply masculine, or rather, a kind of warped version of masculinity that finds an echo in the corruption of sports at the hands of capitalism: the NFL, the NBA. This is how the new consumer sees the old brands.
Second, we need to accept that things are different now. The world in which our children have developed has taught them much. We have taught them much. They are individuals existing in complex cultural systems. They have transcended vague notions of monocultural national values and the politics of supremacy. They do not trust the previous generation. Their version of leadership is not command and control, it is not JFK, LBJ, Churchill, Thatcher, or Reagan. If the Clinton presidency taught this generation anything it was surely this: leadership is about acknowledging uncertainty rather than manufacturing certainty. We are all flawed and it is how we respond to that fact that defines our future. This sensibility is endemic among new consumers. The Cluetrain Manifesto reflected this as its authors indicated a way forward: markets are conversations. Absolutely, and so are brands. The question is, what do we want to discuss?
The answer is: kind of everything.
At the top of the list is the identity question and the values consumers wish to be associated with as they engage in transactions with companies. Deeply embedded in this question lies the consumers’ relationship with a world they feel increasingly connected to and in a small way responsible for. Consumers no longer accept the cultural autism of corporate brands. They want a conversation about where we, as designers, stand, what we are doing, and how we can do it better. They want to enjoy the benefits of a healthy economy (don’t we all?) without the guilt of screwing it for everyone else. How could they enjoy their smart new shoes if they knew there are unhappy people living in dangerous conditions so that they could have them? This was never part of the promise, but it was always part of the reality. Now, that reality is visible and the new consumer is aware and engaged. This means we, as designers, have to be also.
The sustainability question is intrinsic to the identity question. In a culture that has rejected exploitation, has confronted inequity, and is striving for a utopian ideal of life, liberty, and happiness, sustainability has huge cultural value. Within the semantics of the word is the resolution of a paradox: It is about keeping what we love, not losing it. This means everything.
When you talk to new consumers, the idea of impact, or the idea of sustainability, is right at the front of their minds. It is in lockstep with a variety of other humanitarian issues. It may be part of a mystical or spiritual value system. It may be part of a reality check and related to their immediate urban environment. It may simply be a part of their general awareness of the world in which they live. Whatever the reason, it is there. It is part of their response to the disappointment of mass consumerism, particularly the mass consumerism created and fueled by the growth of television:
While our cars may be shiny, and our stocks may be booming, there is another story to be told. There is an emptiness inside, a void in the soul of America.
The TV functions as a conduit for the lowest common denominator of public dialogue. Whether it be Regis Philbin or Beverly Hills 90210, the world learns about America by the cotton candy that we call Must See TV. And it works. Only 25 percent of teenagers between the ages of 13–17 can name the city where the U.S. Constitution was written, but a full 75 percent know that you can find the zip code 90210 in Beverly Hills, California.
—Adam Werbach, The Thin Green Line
I quote Adam Werbach because he is a particularly eloquent representative of the new consumer generation. Passionately committed to the environmental movement, he was the youngest-ever president of the Sierra Club (at age twenty-six) and now propels his agenda through a video production company and website called The Thin Green Line. As a media sophisticate he understands the relationship between the issue of environmentalism and what he would consider to be the insidious actions of mass marketers in concealing the truth of consumption from the consumer. Of equal importance is the connection he draws between the feeling of loss that exists within our mass consumer culture and the explosion of environmental concerns. This connection is the critical link between the history and future of brands.
Consumerism’s great contribution to Maslow’s hierarchy is desire. In many cases branded goods are promoted as a means of (help me) self-actualization. The notion is that, fully empowered by access to the right stuff, an individual can get a grip on his or her own reality and project a kind of instant individuation, a personality that is both unique and yet belongs to a larger group. The trick is always, as we know, for the brand to influence the idea of the group to which people aspire. And people seem to like this.
It turns out that buying stuff because it satisfies a desire is OK. In fact, it is rather pleasing. There are many people in the world today who would love the opportunity to get stuff because they want it rather than be restricted to satisfying only their needs. And before we run off in an apoplectic rage about the sinfulness of desire I am afraid to tell you that it is a basic human truth. We want as well as need. The experience of desire is nice! We love it! In my view the crisis of consumerism is not that it creates desire but that it fails to satiate. Most critiques of consumerism and the advertising industry it created seem to focus on how bad creating desire is rather than asking if we can create desire for, well, something else.
This turns out to be on the mind of the new consumer: I want to want but I want to want what will actually satisfy me.
So imagine if we, as designers, and as the creative fuel of an evolving consumerism, were to shift the focus of desire from something we can never satiate to something we can. To me that is the essence of the new consumerism. It has all the thrill of the old but this time it actually delivers.
This is where we can begin a serious conversation about sustainable consumerism. This is when we can look brand owners in the eye and talk honestly and openly about the challenges they face. The ability to create great stuff is not necessarily correlated to the ability to create great relationships. Within relationships that thrive, all parties are able to enjoy the experience. The brand owner who ignores the consumer values part of the equation fails to acknowledge the human dimension of the relationship. As we proceed into a consumer world within which many different versions of the same stuff offer marginal differentiation for the consumer, we will become ever more reliant on the quality of the relationships we create. While the Internet utopians of rationality argue that information technology will reduce everything to price-value-based comparisons, the consumer is mourning the loss of human contact, the loss of valuable relationships. Just look at the mourning ritual of the recently bereaved Oldsmobile franchise.
In a recent speech to a conference hosted by Metropolis magazine, I put up the following slide:
The modern consumer adds environmental impact to the perceived cost of consumption and is attracted to companies who acknowledge their responsibility by embracing incremental improvements in environmental impact.
This observation was grounded in conversations we had with consumers in the research we do here at W+K. Here is what seems to be going on: the sustainability question has become a flash point for the anxiety that permeates the relationships people feel they have with business. The continuing lack of interest expressed through brands by business in this question is seen as symptomatic of the corporatization of the consumer experience. The profit motive is seen to have trumped basic human decency. Carl Pope of the Sierra Club once told me that the environment was the issue that almost guaranteed a young voter turnout. It has become a focus of young voters’ fears that they will lead meaningless lives in servitude to massive businesses whose sole concern is shareholder value. It signals the threat they feel: that they have little control over their lives and that business cannot be trusted.
The upshot of this is that sustainability has become their issue. The new consumer owns the new consumption and his or her values will dictate which brands succeed and how. There is no barrier being put up by the consumer to the idea of sustainable consumption.
I was discussing these issues with designer Alex Gajowskyj. Alex had designed the “world shoe” for Nike. The idea was to create a product with minimal waste, designed for manufacture, and useable by the people who made it. In a deep way, the project reflects the response a good company like Nike has when confronted by this issue. Nike has started to move toward sustainable consumption as it acknowledges the feelings of both its consumers and its employees. Alex’s experiment was a central part of this evolution. In his words, this is what they learned:
Tradition; natural opposition to change and a reliance upon “tried and trusted” business practice represent the biggest obstacles for any business seeking global growth.
—Alex Gajowskyj, shoe designer
In other words, if the consumer is not the barrier, then the business is. Part of the dynamic evolution of distinctive competencies, to use Kees van der Haijden’s idea, is to evolve away from the traditions and practices that hinder the ability of the business to engage fully with the consumer.
Evolving consumer values demand that modern brands rethink the transactions they rely on for consumer attention. This is why brand owners need to care about the sustainability question. It is a cultural phenomenon as well as a real issue. If brands are to respond to the spirit of the times, then they need to respond to this most crucial element of contemporary culture. Furthermore, they need to acknowledge that, as a symbol, it is also a symptom of a deeper dysfunctionality between brands in general and the consumer. The relationship between consumer and mass brands has decayed to such a point that the days of premium-priced, high-margin branded products seems to exist only in our fantasy world. We need to change that: people want more! But now they want more from us as people rather than more of our stuff.
Here is a comment by Clive Whitcher who oversees strategic planning for Saatchi & Saatchi on their Toyota business:
Prius buyers are ecstatic about the car and what it says about Toyota. Toyota’s their hero for finally doing something tangible about the environment—one guy came to a group with a collage featuring evergreen sprigs and a rose stuck to (re-cycled) paper! The love is akin to what people felt in the 1970s when Toyota was their savior—saving them from bad gas mileage when prices went up and there were lines at the gas station and of course from bad domestic quality and ridiculous domestic “downsized” compacts.
—Clive Whitcher, Saatchi & Saatchi
The movement has started. There are companies, like Nike and Toyota, who are responding to their consumers’ deeply felt issues. But on a broader scale my question is: Where are the designers? Where are the ad guys? How can we develop skills and practices that respond to this evolution? How will we determine the effectiveness of what we do when the entire industry is trapped in an unevolved capitalist paradigm? How can clients trust that the advice they are being given responds to the reality of consumer culture when that advice remains locked in process-based thinking from the 1970s? It is time to challenge these traditions, as Gajowskyj has stated. We have in our midst the most well-informed talent in the history of our young industry, coupled with mind-expanding technology that helps us learn and execute ideas better and faster than ever before. We have no excuse to fail the people we create our work for, both clients and consumers.
Sustainability is just that: It is about sustaining, providing nourishment, keeping going. Brand owners who nourish their consumers with meaningful ideas and representation, and designers and advertising people who take a similar approach and help their clients keep going, will recognize that consumerism is, like everything else in our world, about evolution. In this case, it is the evolution away from the self-destructive impulse of mass commoditization and toward a sustainable consumerism that satiates our desires for strong relationships grounded in our common humanity.
The fact of our connection to the extended network of humanity has been tragically brought to our attention by the horrible events of September 11, 2001. That markets are dynamic and conversation based has been clearly revealed. Many Americans felt attacked but none more so than those at ground zero of the capitalist movement: corporate Americans. This did not seem like an attack on American teachers, American nurses, American software designers, teenagers, hip-hop artists, production-line workers, bakers, and so on; it seemed like an attack on corporate America, and those deeply protected and nourished by corporations suddenly felt particularly vulnerable. For the first time the connection between their world and the seething experiences of the rest of humanity was brought into terrible relief.
I was fortunate enough to be invited to participate in some deep conversations about the near-term future of business in the light of the global economic downturn that had begun before the so-called War on Terror. These were conversations between business people who are many degrees removed from the world of marketing, advertising, or design. They were economists, bankers, engineers, HR directors, corporate strategists, and the like. Eamon Kelly and his team from the Global Business Network in Emeryville, California, skillfully led a group of 150 of us through these conversations to imagine scenarios for the business environment in 2010. For me, one of the most striking elements of the conversations that I participated in was the emergence of a more urgent awareness of the relationship between the cultural and economic value system of business itself. For some, there was a reappraisal of the value of their brand. They saw their brand as their company’s reputation, symbolizing not only the performance of their organization, the innovation and service values they excelled at, but also the cultural values it symbolized. They sensed a big change in their future: an unbundling of the economic model of business from its intrinsic cultural values such that the cultural impact of business behavior could be evaluated and reintegrated into business planning. A very smart and articulate participant claimed that the cultural impact as well as the economic impact of business planning would, in the future, be central to the way he thought about his work. To me, this could herald real change in the way business relates to society and culture. Moving from exploitation to sustainability as a strategy for development could be part of that change.
Rethinking the conversations that brands as surrogates for businesses have with people the world over is a necessity if we are to continue to use the incredible power of creativity in a free world to generate development on a global scale. Business can bring development and growth to every corner of the world, but not at the expense of destroying the environment, both physically and culturally. Individuals want to sustain themselves and grow. They want to develop their own skills, enjoy a good life, and create opportunity for their children. This is true for every single human being ever created. Businesses that fail to relate to these twin desires—to sustain a life, a culture, a society, a family, an ideal, and to develop it—will lose traction at home and abroad.
The simplistic attitudes that have characterized an increasingly dysfunctional corporate world cannot continue if business itself is to be sustainable. After being given free reign for a generation, capitalism will be constrained by culture. This will radically transform the way we think about brands. The days when the goal was to manipulate the cultural context of business to ensure success (to present smoking as glamorous, personal transport as a surrogate for power, consumer products as empowering) are over. Finito, gone, gone, gone. Assuming that competition takes place within a stable environment and is about differentiation alone is also obsolete as a philosophy. The future is about adaptation to the cultural context of the business transaction, both at the micro and the macro level—at the level of a toothpaste sale in Sri Lanka and at the level of a maglev urban transport program in Germany. Oh sure, there will be a transition period during which conservative money will be poured into maintaining a semblance of a status quo. But also there will be and are businesses that are fully engaged with the transition out of this period of history dominated by economic capital and into a period balanced by the values of cultural capital.
Listen to the young and you hear a clear voice. The fundamental change they bring is from hierarchies based on power to networks based on influence. Influence relies on the art of listening, not the deployment of power. Listening is a human skill, not an organizational attribute. A new semiotics of communication is being created in the crucible of Internet-enabled networks of youth. Ethics are being evolved into business assets. Global strategies by multinational corporations are evolving from imposition to participation. America has been the model; only the monocultural theists ever dreamed of America as a melting pot. The rest of us wanted something more chunky and less palatable, and we got it. Managing diversity is a different challenge than creating uniformity. Managing a sustainable business is a different challenge than driving fourth-quarter profit growth. Listening is a different challenge than broadcasting.
So we return to the idea of sustainable consumerism. It is about sustainable businesses also. Sustainable brands listen, respond, and create value within relationships for all participants. A consumerism that satiates desire by creating value rather than extracting it. Our challenge will be to wrench branding and communications from the cultural autism of corporate marketing and hand it back to the creative community: the thinkers, writers, inquirers, and designers who are intimates with the emerging culture of business and can interrogate their clients as effectively as the customer.