WE HIDDEN PERSUADERS

I met one of my mates for dinner a few weeks ago. He’s training to be a clinical psychiatrist. That means he’s been a bona-fide ‘medical doctor’ for a few years, and now he’s going to specialise.

Over a starter of spicy chicken wings, he told me all about his tuition. He’s been in and out of NHS psychiatric hospitals around London for the last six months. He even spent a few weeks at Broadmoor, the infamous hospital-cum-prison for the criminally insane.

“Honestly mate, some mornings you get the urge to say, ‘Look, just stop being silly!’”

Anyway, as the main course arrived he asked how my work is going.

subliminal—    “All good thanks. It’s great fun you know, advertising.”

Leaning back in his chair, and nonchalantly tossing a sweet potato fry into his mouth, he replied:

“It’s mainly subliminal though right? That’s how a lot of adverts work.”

Now, dear reader, you may think that my mate is a dickhead for thinking this. I’ve often been tempted to ponder his dickhead’ery myself. He’s a ‘medical doctor’ after all, and hoping to be one that deals exclusively with the human brain.

But I reckon that’s because you probably work in an area related to advertising or marketing.

And we haven’t just seen behind the curtain, we live behind it.

I’ll wager that when average people hear the word ‘advertising’, many minds jump to a myth that first arose from a bestselling book by Vance Packard called The Hidden Persuaders.

Here he is. And here’s his book.

PACKARD

It was first published in 1957, and the overall message is that advertising shamelessly exploits the general public, manipulating them into buying things they don’t really want or need.

subliminalIn his fourth chapter, Packard refers to research that aimed to find out why a man repeatedly chose a certain make of car. And how under hypnosis he “was able to repeat word for word, an ad he had read more than twenty years before”.

Then having raised the reader’s concerns about how vulnerable we are to mind-probing techniques such as hypnotism, Packard described an experiment reported in the Sunday Times. This experiment apparently happened in a New Jersey cinema and comprised pictures of ice cream being shown at a “sub-threshold” level, meaning below the level of conscious perception.

The result was apparently a ‘clear and unaccountable boost in ice cream sales’ — the first ever documented case of subliminal advertising.

But it was all bollocks.

We now know that the boost in ice cream sales was due to exceptionally hot weather. And that Packard’s arguments were conflated with another experiment, set up in the same year by a chap named James Vickery.

In Vickery’s experiment, phrases like ‘Drink Coke’ and ‘Hungry? Eat Popcorn’ were exposed at 0.3 milliseconds, and apparently created an increase in Coke and Popcorn sales of 18% and 59% respectively.

But that was all bollocks too. Vickery later admitted it was a hoax.

We now know from continuous experiments that ‘sub-threshold’ messages repeatedly exposed at a frequency below about forty milliseconds, don’t have any enduring effect on us whatsoever. Certainly no ability to affect our brand choices.

subliminalBut Packard’s book set a ball rolling which clearly rolls to this day.

Despite ‘subliminal advertising’ being banned in the UK and USA from 1958, as recently as the 2000 US presidential election, the newspapers were plastered with stories about a TV ad aimed at the Democratic Party candidate, Al Gore, in which the word ‘rat’ had supposedly been inserted below the level of conscious perception.

Again, bollocks. (And I’m sure you’re gratified to see that American politics has become far more grown-up and sensible since then)

One of America’s most influential admen of the 1960s, Rosser Reeves, wrote a book named ‘Reality in Advertising’.

Here he is. And here’s his book.

REEVES

In a chapter titled ‘The Freudian Hoax’, Reeves wrote (in shouty capitals):

“THERE ARE NO HIDDEN PERSUADERS. ADVERTISING WORKS OPENLY, IN THE BARE AND PITILESS SUNLIGHT.”

Perhaps I’ll send a copy to my psychiatrist-to-be mate this Christmas.

Well, that’s it. I hope you think this was a good blog.

subliminal

 

Roald Dahl’s Daily Routine

 

John Fountain. McCann Enterprise

Roald Dahl books sell at the rate of twelve a minute.

Every day of the year.

He is perhaps the most imaginative writer of all time. Yet, as a young man he had no recognisable creative ability at all.

As a budding corporate businessman working for Shell and without any particular creative ambition, his life was destined to be dull, academic and insignificant. Then things took a very dramatic change. The Second World War came along.

You may remember that Roald joined the RAF and signed up as a fighter pilot. After just a few hours of action he was forced to crash-land his fighter plane in the desert and seconds later it caught fire. Somehow he managed to release the canopy, tumble out of the wreckage and extinguish his burning overalls by rolling in the sand.

Having survived that ordeal – along came another. Next the crippled aircraft’s machine guns caught alight and started firing live rounds directly around his body. 8 Browning .303 machine guns (4 in each wing) opened up, pounding the sand just inches from his body. The next day, when he was found by an RAF patrol, his overalls were so burnt and his face so disfigured that he was almost unrecognisable as an RAF officer.

At the underground Army Field Ambulance Station in Mersah, he was patched up, sedated, and sent by train to the Anglo-Swiss Hospital in Alexandria where he was treated for burns, severe concussion and spinal trauma.

Initially, his face was so swollen that he could not open his eyes and it was impossible to assess whether the accident had blinded him. The doctors did not know whether he would ever see again. For almost a month he inhabited a hazy world of total darkness, uncertain of time or surroundings. Concussed, blind and isolated from family and friends, he was disoriented and totally alone.

Remarkably, all this isolation and darkness had a positive impact. Something happened inside Dahl’s brain that electrified his imagination. His thinking changed from that of a corporate businessman to a man bristling with thoughts, ideas and weird stories. His brain became supercharged. And from the darkness and the confines of his hospital bed, he went on to develop a completely different way of looking at life.

Like having all his teeth removed.

He reasoned that natural teeth are just too much trouble. All the cleaning, the regular dentistry, the aches and pains, it was all unnecessary. So, one by one, while still in his twenties, he decided to have every tooth pulled out and wore dentures for the rest of his life. Even in old age, he continued recommending false teeth to everyone he met.

When his ex-wife, the actress Patricia Neal, suffered a series of massive strokes that left her paralysed, unable to walk, partially blind and with severely impaired speech, Dahl devised a brutal recovery regime. He had no experience with treating stroke victims yet his tough approach is now standard therapy for stroke victims. Against all expectations, she returned to the screen to win a further Oscar nomination and worldwide admiration.

When his son Theo had a skull injury, Dahl found a toymaker who constructed a new valve to his own design. The design that Dahl came up with went on to be used on over 3,000 other children. It even saved the life of his agent’s son.

And when it came to his work, his approach to putting pen to paper was so disciplined and methodical that he abided by the same process every day – without fail.

He only wrote in the hut in his garden and he always worked the same hours of the day. And for usually no more than two hours. “Two hours of writing fiction leaves this writer completely drained. For those two hours he has been in a different place with totally different people.”

He wrote every day including weekends and Christmas.

His lunch was always the same: Norwegian prawns and half a lettuce.

He wrote with six yellow pencils in a jar beside him – “Always six, there must be six”.

He always wrote upon American legal paper, which he had imported as it was slightly larger than the UK size. He had a thermos full of coffee and an electric pencil sharpener next to him. And while seated in the same armchair, looking out of the same, small, grimy window, his mind was then free to create masterpieces of fiction.

And when the time came that he could feel a story starting to come together, and the words falling into place. At that very moment when he knew he was onto something great, he would stop.

Get up from his desk.

And do something else.

He explains his thinking thus; “Hemingway, a great American writer, taught me the finest trick when you are doing a long book, which is, he simply said in his own words, “When you are going good, stop writing.” And that means that if everything’s going well and you know exactly where the end of the chapter’s going to go and you know just what the people are going to do, you don’t go on writing and writing until you come to the end of it, because when you do, then you say, well, where am I going to go next? And you get up and you walk away and you don’t want to come back because you don’t know where you want to go. But if you stop when you are going good, as Hemingway said…then you know what you are going to say next. You make yourself stop, put your pencil down and everything, and you walk away. And you can’t wait to get back because you know what you want to say next and that’s lovely and you have to try and do that. Every time, every day, all the way through the year.

If you stop when you are stuck, then you are in trouble!”