Category Archives: Digital Marketing

A Possibly Premature Post-Mortem on Yahoo

Last Thursday, Yahoo held it ‘s annual shareholder meeting. At that meeting, CEO Marissa Mayer dealt the company a doubled down kiss of death. She stated the goals of the board are fully aligned with one clear priority: “delivering shareholder value to all of you.” She further mentioned, when dealing with the divesture of all that once was Yahoo, that she’s “been very heartened by the level of interest in Yahoo. It validates our business processes as well as our achievements to date.”

It’s fancier language, but it’s basically the same as the butcher saying, “This cow is no longer viable as a cow, so I’m looking at it as a collection of rump roasts, T-Bones and hamburger. I’m hoping we have more of the former and less of the later.”

Yahoo_1996I first encountered Yahoo in 1995, shortly after it’s brief life as Jerry and David’s Guide to the World Wide Web. I think it was probably still parked on Stanford’s servers at the time. At the time, the Internet was like the world’s biggest second-hand store – a huge collection that was 95% junk/5 % useful stuff with no overarching order or organization. David Filo and Jerry Yang’s site was one of the very first to try to provide that order.

As an early search marketer in the run up to the dot-com bubble, you couldn’t ignore the Yahoo directory. The Yahooligans walked with typical Valley swagger. Hubris was never in short supply. They were the cocks of the walk and they knew it.

It was a much-humbled post-bubble Yahoo that I visited in 2004. They had got their search asses soundly kicked by Google, who was now powering their non-directory results. The age of the curated directory was gone, replaced by the scalability of algorithmic search.

As a culture, the Yahooligans were struggling with the mixed management signals that came from then CEO Terry Semel and his team. Sunnyvale was clouded in a purple haze. The Yahooligans didn’t know who the hell they were or what they were supposed to do. Where they a tech company or an entertainment company? The answer, as it turned out, was neither.

I met with the remnants of the once mighty search team to talk about user behaviors. I didn’t know it at the time, but Yahoo was gearing up to relaunch their search service. A much vilified paid inclusion program would also be debuted. It was one of many ill-fated attempts to find the next “Big Thing.”

Marissa Mayer continues to put a brave face on it, but the Yahoo engine ran out of steam at least a decade and a half ago. What amazes me is how long the ride has been. There is a message here for tech-based companies.

If you dig down to the critical incubation period of any tech company, you find a recurring pattern. Some technologically mediated connection allows people to do something they were previously unable to do. This releases pent up market demand. It’s like a thin sliver trying to poke through a water balloon. If successful, this released market demand creates an immediate and sizable audience for whomever introduced the innovation. Yahoo’s directory, Google’s PageRank, Facebook’s “Facemash”, AirBnB’s accommodation directory, Uber’s ridesharing app – they all share the same modus operandi – a tech-step forward creates a new audience and market opportunity.

In hindsight, once you strip away all the hype, it’s amazing how tenuous and unimpressive these technological advances are. Luck and timing typically play a huge part. If the conditions are right, the sliver eases through the balloon’s membrane and for a time, there is a steady stream of opportunity.

The problem is that is that as easily as these markets form, they can just as easily evaporate. When the technological advantage passes to the next competitor, as it did when Yahoo gave way to Google, all that’s left is the audience. When you consider that Yahoo has been coasting on this audience for close to two decades, it’s rather amazing that Mayer still has any assets at all to sell.

 

Why Marketers Love Malcolm Gladwell … and Why They Shouldn’t

Marketers love Malcolm Gladwell. They love his pithy, reductionist approach to popular science – his tendency to sacrifice verity for the sake of a good “Just-so” story. And in doing this, what is Malcolm Gladwell but a marketer at heart? No wonder our industry is ga-ga over him. We love anyone who can oversimplify complexity down to the point where it can be appropriated as yet another marketing “angle”.

Take the entire influencer advertising business, for instance. Earlier this year, I saw an article saying more and more brands are expanding their influencer marketing programs. We are desperately searching for that holy nexus where social media and those super-connected “mavens” meet. While the idea of influencer marketing has been around for a while, it really gained steam with the release of Gladwell’s “The Tipping Point.” And that head of steam seems to have been building since the release of the book in 2000.

As others have pointed out, Gladwell has made a habit of taking one narrow perspective that promises to “play well” with the masses, supporting it with just enough science to make it seem plausible and then enshrining it as a “Law.”

Take “The Law of the Few”, for instance, from The Tipping Point: “The success of any kind of social epidemic is heavily dependent on the involvement of people with a particular and rare set of social gifts.” You could literally hear the millions of ears attached to marketing heads “perk up” when they heard this. “All we have to do,” the reasoning went, “is reach these people, plant a favorable opinion of our product and give them the tools to spread the word. Then we just sit back and wait for the inevitable epidemic to sweep us to new heights of profitability.”

Certainly commercial viral cascades do happen. They happen all the time. And, in hindsight, if you look long and hard enough, you’ll probably find what appears to be a “maven” near ground-zero. From this perspective, Gladwell’s “Law of the Few” seems to hold water. But that’s exactly the type of seductive reasoning that makes “Just So” stories so misleading. You mistakenly believe that because it happened once, you can predict when it’s going to happen again. Gladwell’s indiscriminate use of the term “Law” contributes to this common deceit. A law is something that is universally applicable and constant. When a law governs something, it plays out the same way, every time. And this is certainly not the case in social epidemics.

duncan-watts

Duncan Watts

If Malcolm Gladwell’s books have become marketing and pop-culture bibles, the same, sadly, cannot be said for Duncan Watts’ books. I’m guessing almost everyone reading this column has heard of Malcolm Gladwell. I further guess that almost none of you have heard of Duncan Watts. And that’s a shame. But it’s completely understandable.

Duncan Watts describes his work as determining the “role that network structure plays in determining or constraining system behavior, focusing on a few broad problem areas in social science such as information contagion, financial risk management, and organizational design.”

You started nodding off halfway through that sentence, didn’t you?

As Watts shows in his books, “Firms spent great effort trying to find “connectors” and “mavens” and to buy the influence of the biggest influencers, even though there was never causal evidence that this would work.” But the work required to get to this point is not trivial. While he certainly aims at a broad audience, Watts does not read like Gladwell. His answers are not self-evident. There is no pithy “bon mot” that causes our neural tumblers to satisfyingly click into place. Watts’ explanations are complex, counter-intuitive, occasionally ambiguous and often non-conclusive – just like the world around us. As he explains his book “Everything is Obvious: *Once You Know the Answer”, it’s easy to look backwards to find causality. But it’s not always right.

Marketers love simplicity. We love laws. We love predictability. That’s why we love Gladwell. But in following this path of least resistance, we’re straying further and further from the real world.

Nobel Intentions, Ignoble Consequences

It was 20 years ago that I discovered the Internet. According to the International Telecommunication Union, that put me in select company. There were only 77 million users of the Internet by the end of 1996. That represented a little more than 1% of the world’s population. 66% of those were in the US, due likely to access restrictions in other areas. I know I logged on to the Web as soon as I could. I had actually been online with Compuserve for a few years prior to that, but it was in 1996 that the first ISP opened in the Canadian city I live in. I was one of the first to set up an account.

Three years later I changed my business to focus exclusively on online marketing. We became one of the fastest growing companies in Canada. Eleven years after start up (or, more accurately, realignment) we sold that company.

Things moved rather quickly after I first went online. At least, I thought they did. But compared to the growth of other start ups – say, Google for instance – I was a very little fish in a very big pond.

The Nobel Survey

In 2001, Cisco conducted a survey of past Nobel Prize winners. By then, Internet usage had mushroomed. Half a billion people – almost 9% of the world’s population – were online. The Internet appeared to be a real thing. The question asked was, “Where will the Internet take us over the next 20 years?

The Laureates were mostly optimistic in their replies. Here’s a quick summary

  • 87% said the Internet would improve education.
  • 93% felt it would provide greater access to libraries, information and teachers.
  • 74% saw the coming of virtual classrooms by 2020.
  • 82% said it would accelerate innovation
  • 83% felt it would improve productivity
  • 72% believed it would improve quality of life and provide more economic opportunity to people in less developed countries
  • 93% saw it improving communications with people in other countries
  • 76% predicted a breaking down of borders

On the negative side, 65% feared it would violate personal privacy, 51% saw it increasing alienation and 44% felt it would lead to greater political or economic inequity.

15 Years later…

I think you could safely put a check beside every single box on the Nobel Laureate wish list. In fact, as optimistic as these predictions seemed just 15 years ago, they seem conservative in hindsight. Online classrooms have been a reality for a few years and education is undergoing a massive reformation. In 2011, 10 years after the survey was conducted, McKinsey estimated that 10% of GDP growth in developed countries was directly attributable to the Internet. And the fact that almost half the world now has Internet access speaks to the role it plays in communication across cultures.

But none of the laureates predicted a gut punch to the cab drivers of the world. No one foresaw the short-sheeting of the traditional hospitality industry. And there was not a peep of new forms of investment predation that would be measured in microseconds.

The Biggest Can of WD-40 Ever

All the benefits of the Internet – and all the negative consequences – come from the same common factor: the elimination of friction. Economist Ronald Coase rightly identified friction – or, in his terminology, “transactional costs” – as the reason corporations exist. Until very recently, geographic distance introduced friction into pretty much every aspect of our society. It took physical resources to overcome friction. Physical resources required capital. Capital could most efficiently be raised and controlled by corporations.

The Internet enabled a new type of connection. It was agnostic to physical distance. But, more importantly, it was a peer-to-peer connection. There was no hierarchy to the Internet. Hierarchies depend on friction. As soon as that friction is removed, the hierarchies begin to fall apart. They are no longer required.

All the good things that were predicted in 2001 came from a removal of friction. But so did all the bad. In the case, the word “regulation” can be often be substituted for “friction.” Regulation is just another form of hierarchal control.

I’ve been “online” for 20 years now. It certainly accelerated every aspect of my life; most positively, some negatively. But one thing’s for certain. Going backwards is not an option.

Basic Instincts and Attention Economics

We’ve been here before. Something becomes valuable because it’s scarce. The minute society agrees on the newly assigned value, wars begin because of it. Typically these things have been physical. And the battle lines have been drawn geographically. But this time is different. This time, we’re fighting over attention – specifically, our attention – and the battle is between individuals and corporations. Do we, as individuals, have the right to choose what we pay attention to? Or do the creators of content own our attention and can they harvest it at their will? This is the question that is rapidly dismantling the entire advertising industry. It has been debated at length here at Mediapost and pretty much every other publication everywhere.

I won’t join in the debate at this time. The reality here is that we do control our attention and the advertising industry was built on a different premise of scarcity from a different time. It was built on a foundation of access and creation, when both those things were in short supply. By creating content and solving the physical problem of giving us access to that content, the industry gained the right to ask us to watch an ad. No ads, no content. It was a bargain we agreed to because we had no other choice.

The Internet then proceeded to blow that foundation to smithereens.

By removing the physical constraints that restricted both the creation and distribution of content, technology has also erased the scarcity. In fact, the balance has been forever tipped the other way. We now have access to so much content; we don’t have enough attention to digest it all. Viewed in this light, it makes the debate around ad blockers seem hopelessly out of touch. Accusing someone of stealing content is like accusing someone of stealing air. The anti-blocking side is trying to apply the economic rational of a market that no longer exists.

So let us accept the fact that we are the owners of our own attention, and that it is a scarce commodity. That makes it valuable. My point is that we should pay more attention to how we pay attention. If the new economy is going to be built on attention, we should treat it with more respect.

The problem here is that we have two types of attention, the same as we have two types of thinking: Fast and Slow. Our slow attention is our focused, conscious attention. It is the attention we pay when we’re reading a book, watching a video or talking to someone. We consciously make a choice when we pay this type of attention. Think of it like a spotlight we shine on something for an extended period of time.

It’s the second type of attention, fast attention, which is typically the target of advertising. It plays on the edge of our spotlight, quickly and subconsciously monitoring the environment so it can swing the spotlight of conscious attention if required. Because this type of attention operates below the level of rational thought, it is controlled by base instincts. It’s why sex works in advertising. It’s why Kim Kardashian can repeatedly break the Internet. It’s why Donald Trump is leading the Republican race. And it’s why adorable Asian babies wearing watermelons can go viral.

It’s this type of attention that really determines the value of the attention economy. It’s the gatekeeper that determines how slow attention is focused. And it’s here where we may need some help. I don’t think instincts developed 200,000 years ago are necessarily the best guide for how we should invest something that has become so valuable. We need a better yardstick that simple titillation for determining where our attention should be spent.

I expect the death throes of the previous access economy to go on for some time. The teeth gnashing of the advertising industry will capture a lot of attention. But the end is inevitable. The economic underpinnings are gone, so it’s just a matter of time before the superstructures built on top of them will collapse. In my opinion, we should just move on and think about what the new world will look like. If attention is the new currency, what is the smartest way to spend it?

Google’s New Brand Launch – Function Driving Form

What would happen if you created an advertising agency run by engineers?

You’d have Google. That’s what.

Last week, I was on the road. I went to Google something on my smartphone, and noticed the logo had changed. I thought at first it was a Doodle commemorating some famous typeface designer, so I didn’t spend too much time digging into it. But on the next day, when the new Google word mark was still there, I decided to see if this was deliberate and permanent. Sure enough, Google had quietly swapped out their brand identity. And they did it in classic Google style.

I wasn’t a fan – at first. But I was looking at it from a purely aesthetic perspective. I prefer classic serif faces. I love the elegance of the curvatures and strokes. Sans serif faces always seem to me to be trying too hard to be accessible. They’re like the puppies of the design world, constantly licking your face. Serif faces are like cats – stretching luxuriously and challenging you to love them on their terms.

But the more I thought – and read – about the branding change, the more I realized that the move was driven by function over form. Google was creating a visual and iconic language with the change. It was driven by the realities of maintaining an identity across a fragmentation of platforms and contexts. One can almost imagine the requirements document that had been put forth to the design team by the various Google engineers that decide these things – a logo that minimizes visual friction and cognitive load – scales well on all screens from nano to peta configurations (and eventually yocto to yotta)– acts as a visual wayfinder no matter where you are in the Google universe – and looks just a little whimsical (the last of these being a concession to the fine arts intern that was getting lattes and Red Bull for the group).

In the last month, Google has announced a massive amount of corporate change. Any other company would have taken the opportunity to mount a publicity event roughly the size of the Summer Olympics. But Google just quietly slipped these things into their weekly to do list. The logo dropped on a Tuesday. A Tuesday! Who the hell rebrands themselves on a Tuesday? There was no corporate push from Google other than a fairly muted blog post, but in researching this column, I found commentary on the change on pretty much every major media. And they weren’t just reporting the change. They were debating it, commenting on it, engaging in it. People gave a damn, either for or against.

That’s when I realized the significance of Google’s move. Because function was driving form – because engineers were dictating to designers – the branding had to be closer to its market. The rebranding was being done to make our lives easier. It wasn’t there to launch some misguided agency driven interpretation of an envisioned future, or slide Google into some strategic position in the marketplace. It was done because if wasn’t done, Google couldn’t do all the rest of the stuff it had to do. Google didn’t tell us what we should think of the move. They just did it and let us decide.

If function determines branding, then it’s living in the right place – the intersection between the market and the marketer. I’ve previously chastised Google for their lack of design thinking, but in this case, maybe they got it right. And maybe there’s a lesson there we all need to learn about the new rules of branding.

Can Alphabet Spark Corporate Innovation?

As I was reading Walter Isaacson’s new book, The Innovators, which chronicles the rise of the digital revolution, something struck me. From Charles Babbage to Sergey Brin, the arc of digital innovation has gone through three very distinct stages.

In the beginning of the digital revolution, some 150 years ago, the innovator was the inventor and the gentleman scientist. They maintained and nurtured academic networks but often worked alone. The primary way they spread ideas was through publishing them in journals. If, as in the case of Charles Babbage and his Differential Engine, there was prototyping required, they would find a patron and then hire the people required to fabricate the prototype. They did this because they could. In this time, innovation was not a particularly resource-intensive endeavor.

But, as we moved into the 20th century, things changed. For the next 6 decades, Isaacson’s innovators tended to be found in one of three places: an university, a government funded lab or a corporate lab. Innovators were generally cogs in much bigger machines. Why? Because the scope of innovation had changed. It had become much more resource hungry. You needed the bulk of a Bell Labs in order to turn out a prototypical transistor.

One also gets the sense that many of the innovators Isaacson profiles were barely tolerated within these more corporate environments. Brilliance often comes coupled with abrasiveness as its dance partner. Many of the forebears of the digital revolution seem to be – not to put too fine a point on it – assholes. If you read between the lines you get the sense that both the innovator and their place of innovation would be immeasurably happier if their paths diverged. But, given the realities of the world at the time, they both needed each other.

Starting in the Sixties, a new breed of innovator emerged – the innovative entrepreneur. Almost without exception, they started within a larger organizational context, but soon found a way to break free and build a company around their innovativeness. Gordon Moore, Robert Noyce, Bill Hewlett, David Packard, Bill Gates, Paul Allen, Steve Jobs, Steve Wozniak, Larry Page and Sergey Brin – all took a new path to innovation. Thanks to the introduction of venture capital, innovation could become the road to riches.

This all becomes more than academically interesting in the light of Google’s announced corporate re-org. Essentially, they’re trying to buck the trend of innovative evolution. Page and Brin feel that innovation can still be contained within the boundaries of a corporate structure, as long as that structure is – well – innovative enough.

In theory, their logic looks sound. The biggest complaint I hear from current Googlers is their feeling of inconsequentiality within a massive organization. Breaking the big boat into a bunch of smaller life rafts could solve that problem. If you could somehow provide innovators with enough room to stretch their mental muscles and yet support them with the enormous resources Google/Alphabet has at their disposal, it seems like a no-lose scenario. Essentially, Alphabet should be able to provide a steroid powered incubator for innovation.

Yet, I remain skeptical. I suspect innovation may defy the best-laid corporate logic. You can sketch out an org-chart that seems like a stable platform for entrepreneurialism, but I think the entrepreneurs may still squeeze out through the cracks. Even if they’re not egotistical jerks, they are, by their very nature, individualistic. They defy authority. Their dreams are tough to contain. Where you see a supportive incubator, they see a restrictive cage. Corporations tend to excel at incremental innovation, but disruptive innovation comes from individuals who don’t play nice at company picnics. And that’s the type of innovation that Alphabet is betting on.

Alphabet is an interesting development in corporate structures. I hope it works. But I’m not sure you can harness entrepreneurialism because it, like information and the human spirit, yearns to be free.

Why Disruptive Change is Disruptive

There were a lot of responses to my last column, looking at why agencies and clients have hit the point of irreconcilable differences. Many of those responses were in agreement. In fact, none were in outright disagreement. This surprised me. A lot of Online Spin readers are people who work for very big agencies. I can only conclude that you elected to show your dissention through your silence.

But there were many that fell in the “Yeah-but” category:

Tiffany Lyman Otten wrote,

“This, like anything, is a sign simply that agencies must evolve – again.

Jill Montaigne adds,

“Yet, our own ongoing advertiser conversations confirm that rather than walking away from their traditional agency relationships, clients desperately need and want their agencies to evolve.”

David Vawter chimes in,

“As long as there is something to sell, people will be needed to create and produce the ideas that sell it.”

Agreed. But…

All of the above comments pointed to a new trend in the marketing ecosystem – that of a network of specialists, often in the form of micro-agencies, that appear to be finding niches to hang on to in the tidal wave of change that is sweeping over our industry.

I used to head one of these agencies. Our area of specialty was in user behavior with search interfaces. We did well in this niche. So well, in fact, that we were eventually acquired by a bigger agency. Bigger agencies are always vertically integrated. As such, they offer clients the one-stop shop model. They move to that model because that is the model they know. It is the model they are programmed to create. It is an organizational form that is dictated by their P&L targets. There is no operational wiggle-room here. They simply can’t become anything else.

Tiffany, Jill and several others all used the word evolve, like it is a magical formula for survival. But evolution is like a tree. Once your branch has been determined, you have to evolve outward from that branch. You can’t suddenly leap to another branch. If you’re a chimpanzee, you can’t suddenly decide one day to evolve into a budgie. You can evolve into a new type of chimpanzee, but you’re still a chimpanzee.

What does happen in evolution, however, is that the environment changes so drastically that the tree is dramatically pruned. Some branches are lopped off, so that new branches can sprout. This is called punctuated equilibrium, and, as I’ve said before, this is what I believe we’re going through right now in marketing. Yes, as David rightly notes, “As long as there is something to sell, people will be needed to create and produce the ideas that sell it.” It’s just that the form that takes may be dramatically different that what we currently know. It could be – correction – will be a marketing ecosystem that will be dominated by new species of marketers.

We tend to equate evolution with change – but evolution is a very specific kind of change. It’s change in response to environmental pressures. And while individual species can evolve, so can entire ecosystems. In that bigger picture, some species will emerge and thrive and others will disappear. What is happening to agencies now is just a ripple effect from a much bigger environmental change – analogous to a planet size asteroid slamming into the business and marketing ecosystem that evolved over the past two centuries.

Big agencies are the result of corporate evolution in the previous ecosystem. We are quick to take them to task for being slow, or dumb, or oblivious to client needs. And perhaps, in the new ecosystem, those things are true. But those are the characteristics of the species. No agency intends to be dumb or unresponsive. It’s just an evolutionary mismatch caused by massive disruption in the environment.

These things happen. It’s actually a good thing. Joseph Schumpeter called it Creative Destruction. But, as the name implies, it’s a zero sum game. For something to be created, something has to be destroyed.

Why Agencies and Clients are Calling It Quits

“Love on the Rocks – ain’t no surprise.”

Neil Diamond

In yesterday’s Online Spin, Maarten Albarda signaled the imminent break up of agencies and clients. Communication is close to zero. Fingers are being pointed. The whisper campaign has turned into outright hostility.

When relationships end, it can be because one of the parties is just not trying. But that isn’t the case here. I believe agencies are truly trying to patch things up. They are trying to understand their one-time life partner. They are desperately gobbling up niche shops and investing in technology in order to respark the flame. And the same is true, I believe, on the client side. They want to feel loved again by their agency of record.

I think what’s happening here is more akin to a break up that happens because circumstances have changed and the respective parties haven’t been able to keep up. This is more like high school sweethearts looking at each other 20 years hence and realizing that what once bonded them is long gone. And, if that’s true, it might be helpful to look back and see what happened.

The problem here is that the agency is a child of a marketplace that is rapidly disappearing. It is the result of the creation of the “Visible Hand” market. In his book of the same name, Alfred Chandler went to great lengths (over 600 pages) to chronicle the rise of the modern organization. The modern concept of an advertising agency was a by-product of that. Vertically integrated organizations came about to overcome some inherent inefficiencies in the market – notably the problem of geography and the lack of a functional marketplace network that came with rapid expansions in production and transportation capabilities. Essentially, markets grew too rapidly for Adam Smith’s “Invisible Hand” to be able to effectively balance through market dynamics. Organizations grew to mammoth size in order to provide internal efficiencies that allowed for greater profitability. You had to be big to be competitive. Agents of all types filled the gaps that were inevitable in a rapidly expanding market place. Essentially an agent bridged the gap between two or more separate nodes in a market network. They were the business equivalent of Mark Granovetter’s “weak tie.”

Through the 20th century advertising agents evolved into creative houses – which is where they hit their golden period. But why was this creativity needed? Essentially, agencies evolved when advances in production and distribution technologies weren’t enough to expand markets anymore. Suddenly, companies needed agencies to create demand in existing and identified markets through the sparking desire. This was the final hurray of the “visible hand” marketplace.

But the explosion of networking technologies and the reduction of transactional friction is turning the “visible hand” market back into the “invisible hand” market of Adam Smith – driven by the natural laws of marketplaces. The networks of the marketplace are becoming more connected than ever.

This is a highly dynamic, cyclical market. Straight line strategic planning doesn’t work here. And straight line strategic planning is a fundamental requirement of an agency relationship. That level of stasis is needed to overcome the inherent gaps in a third party relationship. Even under the best of circumstances, an arm’s length relationship can’t effectively “make sense” of the market environment and react quickly enough to maneuver in this marketplace. And, as Albarda points out, the client-agency relationship is far from healthy.

The ironic part is all of this is that what was once an agency’s strength – its position as a bridge between existing networks, has turned into its greatest vulnerability. Technology has essential removed the gaps in the market itself, allowing clients to become more effectively linked to natural networks of customers through emerging channels that are also increasingly mediated by technology. Middlemen are no longer needed. Those gaps have disappeared. But the gap that has always been there, between the agent and the client, not only still exists, but is widening with the breakdown of the relationship. Agencies are like bridges without a river to span.

If you read the common complaints from both sides in the presentations Albarda references , they all come from the ever-widening schism that has come from a drastic change in the market itself. Simply put, the market has evolved to the point where agency relationships are no longer tenable. We on the agency side keep saying we need to reinvent ourselves, but that’s like saying that a dog has to reinvent itself to become a fish – it’s just not in our DNA.

The Rhythm of Strategy

I confess – I poked the bear a little last week. Not too much. Just a little. I purposely oversimplified one side of an argument to set up a debate. I knew there would be those that would swing to the other side in defense of strategy. I initiated an action, for which I knew there would be an equal and opposite reaction. I sometimes do that, because I believe in waves, or oscillations, or rhythms. Call it what you want – I believe in them because they always beat stasis or straight lines. Nature doesn’t move in straight lines.

You didn’t disappoint. You very ably defended strategy. And you did it in an intelligent and nuanced manner – unlike, say – Donald Trump. From a post in response by Rick Liebling: “I would … argue that the “seizing of opportunities” is not the antithesis of strategic thinking, but rather the result of it.  A strong brand strategy helps a company understand what it should, and just as importantly, shouldn’t do. This type of discipline is what allows a company to seize those very opportunities.”

And from Nick Schiavone: “I believe that Principles, Vision and Execution are more critical to “success & satisfaction” than strategies, ideations and systems when it comes to launching, building and sustaining brands.  The end result is really an ongoing, experiential relationship between a special “customer” (i.e., a person of need or desire) and the product or service provided under the auspices of a special “preparer.”(i.e.,  a person of art & science). “

Here’s the thing. When I said much of a businesses performance comes down to luck, that sounded disparaging. But it’s far from it. Luck could also be defined as the circumstances of our environment. They are the factors that lie beyond our control. And they tend to be rhythmic in nature. Sometimes they’re good, sometimes they’re bad. Sometimes they’re huge swings in either direction – what Nassam Nicholas Taleb calls “Black Swans.” And if you look as strategy as Rick Liebling does, then strategy is simply being very good at detecting these rhythms and responding to them.

But that’s not how we typically look at strategy. In fact, our entire mythology and methodology around strategy tends to run in decidedly straight lines. Strategy should be decided on high and be disseminated down to the front line masses. In the case of brand strategy, it may be determined by an agent working on your behalf and delivered in the guise of branding guidelines and polished ads. It should be decisive and unerring. It should plough forward, despite circumstance. Phil Rosenweig’s point in The Halo Effect was not that we should just surrender to the whims of fate, but that we shouldn’t kid ourselves about the importance of fate and our ability to control it. There is no single, “straight line,” universally applicable recipe for dealing with fate.

The problem with strategy, as it is practiced in most organizations, is that it blinds us to fate. We tend to execute in spite of circumstance, rather than in response to it. Rather, strategy in the new marketplace should perhaps be renamed “sense-making.” It should embrace the rhythms and oscillations of fate rather than dampen them in the name of strategic thinking. Organizations should become one massive sensory and experimental organ, constantly monitoring the environment and responding in a rational and opportunistic way.

Finally, let’s not discount the impact of effective leadership and management practices. I said last week that leadership, when isolated from other variables, only accounted for 4% of an organization’s performance. Management practices accounted for another 10%. That sounds ridiculously low, but only because we tend to excessively canonize those things in our business mythologies. Let’s approach it in a more rational way. Let’s imagine that two companies, A & B, both launched this year with $10 million in sales. Over the next 20 years, both companies were subject to the same rhythms – positive and negative – of the marketplace. But, because of superior leadership and management, Company A was able to more effectively capitalize on opportunity, giving it a 14% advantage over Company B. In 2035, what would be the impact of that 14% edge? It’s not insignificant. Company B would have grown in sales to $21 million, growth of just over 100%. But Company A would have sales of almost $290 million. It would be almost 14 times the size of Company B!

It’s not that I don’t believe in strategy. It’s just that it’s time to rethink what we do in the name of strategy.

Is Brand Strategy a Myth?

BrandStrategyThemeOn one side of the bookshelf, you have an ever growing pile of historic business best sellers, with promising titles like In Search of Excellence, 4 +2: What Really Works, Good to Great and Built to Last. Essentially, they’re all recipes for building a highly effective company. They are strategic blueprints for success.

On the other side of the bookshelf, you have books like Phil Rosenweig’s “The Halo Effect.” He trots out a couple of sobering facts: In a rigorous study conducted by Marianne Bertrand at the University of Chicago and Antoinette Schoar at MIT, they isolated and quantified the impact of a leader on the performance of a company. The answer, as it turned out, was 4%. That’s right, on the average, even if you have a Jack Welch at the helm, it will only make about 4% difference to the performance of your company. Four percent is not insignificant, but it’s hardly the earth shaking importance we tend to credit to leadership.

The other fact? What if you followed the instructions of a Jim Collins or Tom Peters? What if you transformed your company’s management practices to emulate those of the winning case studies in these books? Surely, that would make a difference? Well, yes – kind of. Here, the number is 10. In a study done by Nick Bloom of the London School of Economics and Stephen Dorgan at McKinsey, the goal was the test the association between specific management practices and company performance. There was an association. In fact, it explained about 10% of the total variation in company performance.

These are hard numbers for me to swallow. I’ve always been a huge believer in strategy. But I’m also a big believer in good research. Rosenweig’s entire book is dedicated to poking holes in much of the “exhaustive” research we’ve come to rely on as the canonical collection of sound business practices. He doesn’t disagree with many of the resulting findings. He goes as far as saying they “seem to make sense.” But he stops short of given them a scientific stamp of endorsement. The reality is, much of what we endorse as sound strategic thinking comes down to luck and the seizing of opportunities. Business is not conducted in a vacuum. It’s conducted in a highly dynamic, competitive environment. In such an environments, there are few absolutes. Everything is relative. And it’s these relative advantages that dictate success or failure.

Rosenweig’s other point is this: Saying that we just got lucky doesn’t make a very good corporate success story. Humans hate unknowns. We crave identifiable agents for outcomes. We like to assign credit or blame to something we understand. So, we make up stories. We create heroes. We identify villains. We rewrite history to fit into narrative arcs we can identify with. It doesn’t seem right to say that 90% of company performance is due to factors we have no control over. It’s much better to say it came from a well-executed strategy. This is the story that is told by business best sellers.

So, it caught my eye the other day when I saw that ad agencies might not be very good at creating and executing on brand strategies.

First of all, I’ve never believed that branding should be handled by an agency. Brands are the embodiment of the business. They have to live and breathe at the core of that business.

Secondly, brands are not “created” unilaterally – they emerge from that intersection point where the company and the market meet. We as marketers may go in with a predetermined idea of that brand, but ultimately the brand will become whatever the market interprets it to be. Like business in general, this is a highly dynamic and unpredictable environment.

I suspect that if we ever found a way to quantify the impact of brand strategy on the ultimate performance of the brand, we’d find that the number would be a lot lower than we thought it would be. Most of brand success, I suspect, will come down to luck and the seizing of opportunities when they arise.

I know. That’s probably not the story you wanted to hear.