Sultan Knish
What's the difference between a president and a can of Pepsi? When it
comes to winning elections, the answer is very little. The 2008 election
was not about issues, it was about image. Not just the image of the
candidate, but the image of his brand.
In marketing terms, a brand is not just a label, it's the way that the
customer is meant to perceive the product and interact with it. Take the
can of Pepsi. It doesn't matter what's actually in the can, you don't
have access to the full list of ingredients anyway. And if you did, it
would take extensive research to even make sense of them. It's not even
about how the actual soda tastes. That matters, but not very much. All
that really matters is how the customer perceives the brand. It's not
about the content. It's only about how people view the brand.
From a marketing standpoint, it's not what the product is, but how
people perceive it in relation to themselves. This is an entirely image
based approach, but a common one now. What that means is, is this a
brand I want to be associated with. Do I want to be seen drinking this
can of Pepsi? Is this a brand that makes me feel good about myself? Does
it enhance my self-image?
The branding of American politics worked the same way. Obama was not
sold as a set of positions and a track record, but as a brand. A brand
that people were encouraged to feel enthusiastic about or at least
comfortable with, using the same techniques that were used to sell soft
drinks. Cheerful posters, meaninglessly simple slogans, celebrities,
theme songs, merchandise, social media, viral videos, fonts, color
schemes, logos and everything else that goes into pushing a billion
dollar product from the shelves to the kitchen.
That transition took Hillary Clinton by surprise and hurt her most of
all. Hillary had been working the party and the traditional campaign
circuit, only to be sidelined by a media centered frenzy that centered
around brands, not people. By the old political rules she should have
won, but the new rules were in and they weren't political anymore.
Few voters could really nail down the policy differences between Obama
and McCain, a mistake that was in part McCain's own fault and played
into the image over substance approach of the Obama campaign. And those
who couldn't, mostly voted for the candidate they felt most comfortable
being associated with. The election came down to a cultural split with
the cultural weapons of mass distraction in the hands of an
omnipresent media and social media empire.
There was no longer any point in discussing programs or issues. They
had become details, like the fine print at the end of a television
commercial that no one can read, and no one is meant to read. It's there
to fulfill an obligation, not to inform or play any meaningful role in
the decision making process. All that mattered was the brand.
The approach was to make voters want to be part of the Obama "brand" and
not want to be associated with the McCain/Palin brand. The Obama brand
was positioned as cool and youthful, in the same way that soft drinks
are. And the public was told over and over again that McCain was old and
crazy, that Palin was stupid and crazy, and that both of them were
uncool. Probably the most constant message repeated through the election
and today, is that the Republican is for "old people". In marketing
terms this is worse than being called a Nazi. The constant pursuit of
youth means that brands which appeal to old people are ruthlessly
eliminated or limited to the export market. (That's why you'll find many
classic American brands in South America or Asia where they have strong
consumer loyalty, but in the United States they were replaced with more
"youthful" brands associated with a new generation.)
2008
was certainly not the first time that liberals had worked to position
themselves as the face of a new generation, and the Republicans as the
voice of the past. The strategy dated back to Kennedy vs Nixon and saw
use again with Clinton in 1992 and 1996, when Silent Generationers,
George H.W. Bush and Bob Dole contended with the country's first Baby
Boomer President. And then in 2008, the boomer Hillary Clinton was
pushed aside for a Generation X candidate. The progressive left enjoys
being thought of as revolutionary and youthful, even if their ideas and
funding come from eighty year olds like Noam Chomsky, Howard Zinn and
George Soros. A youthful demographic is less likely to have the
background and the life experience to know that their policies won't
work, and to be fueled by the same inchoate mix of outrage and blind
optimism. And a willingness to act without understanding the
consequences.
Marketing is similarly aimed at capturing a youth market in order to
lock in a new generation of consumers by manipulating their feelings of
attachment toward a brand. In 2008 it was done with a candidate, rather
than a soft drink, but the principle was the shame. The new approach
stripped away most of the formal aspects of the campaign, focusing
instead on creating a brand that people would want to incorporate into
their own self-image. What they were being asked to do, was not to
decide who should run the country, but whose sign would look best in
their yard, which candidate could they feel good about being associated
with.
Smearing Hillary Clinton, McCain and Palin poisoned the well. They
retained a die hard demographic, but made those voters who watched the
news, instead of doing their own research, who were casual consumers of
politics and didn't really understand the practical differences between
both parties too well, uncomfortable with the McCain\Palin ticket. Not
for substantial reasons, but insubstantial ones.
The iconization of Obama on the other hand, the proliferation of
appearances, merchandising and photo and video made many Americans feel
as if they knew him, when in reality they knew next to nothing about
him. This technique is commonly used by celebrities to create the veneer
of familiarity, without the substance. Massive media exposure creates
the sense that you know someone, even when in reality you don't. That
false intimacy is exploited as a one-way connection. Charismatic
politicians do it all the time, but there was something unique here
because Obama was a complete unknown. He had come out of nowhere and
made the leap from State Senate to Senate to the White House in an
absurdly short amount of time. His omnipresence made him familiar, which
disguised how much of a chimera he really was. And is.
The iconization of the self is the key element of the social media age.
Social media bestows the celebrity's illusion of intimacy on everyone,
allowing them to share without sharing and interact through a one way
mirror. To focus attention on themselves while remaining apart isolated
and apart from other people. The face in the camera that a hundred
million people see but are unseen in turn. The message sent to a million
people that seems as personal as if it were intended for only one. The
illusion of an interaction that is not actually taking place.
This best describes Obama's public image. A brand that is as familiar as
it is unreal. Like Ronald McDonald or Mr Clean, we are familiar with
him, yet unable to go beyond the smooth surface. He is everywhere and
yet nowhere. He constantly wants our attention, but has nothing to tell
us. There is a real physical Barack Hussein Obama walking about
somewhere, but there needn't be. He would be just as real, if he didn't
exist. If he were nothing more than a poster, a logo, a few books, some
computer graphics and a slogan. He would be no less real, because he
isn't real. He's a brand.
The man beneath that brand is another question. Like all pitchmen and
actors, there is something of him in the image we see, but it is mostly a
convincing simplification. And what is startling about his brand is
just how little of it is really human. Toss away the merchandise and the
art, and very little is left. Probably because what's underneath was
never meant for public consumption. The Obamas constant oversharing is
as much a defense as an offense, an obsessive need to control their own
narrative and tell their own story over and over again. Even when
there's no story and nothing to tell. The last time we saw it this bad
was in the JFK administration, when the tours of the White House and the
stream of photographs concealed an uglier reality lurking outside the
frame of the camera. And that's almost certainly the case here.
Those most eager to play a role are looking to leave themselves behind,
to escape and run away from something. People like that make some of the
best actors and the splashiest celebrities. But underneath their mask
of charisma is a towering pile of human wreckage. They are so eager to
be something they are not, that they are convincing. And because they
need us to believe in the illusion so badly, they are omnipresent.
Always hungry for attention and adoration, getting high on it and
crashing down when the attention is withdrawn. Incapable of any real
empathy, they mimic it brilliantly. So well that they seem more
empathetic than actual working human beings. So perfectly compassionate
that it's almost inhuman. But it's never other people they cry for, only
themselves.
This is the kind of man perfectly ready to be turned into a brand, made
into a symbol, an idol and an icon. But brands tell us more about how
their creators see us, than how we see them. The brand is a 'wire
mother', a collection of symbols that are meant to draw forth emotional
reactions from us and create an attachment to inanimate objects. The
brand manipulates our ideas of who we are and want to be in order to
incorporate itself into our self-image, to be the parasite in our
worldview. To identify the brand as aspirational and link it to our own
aspirations.
The idea that an election would cease to be about issues and become
entirely an exercise in selling a product, sight unseen, the proverbial
pig in a poke covered over with the symbols of capitalism might have
seemed unduly alarmist once, but 2008 was our pig in a poke election. A
man who had virtually no experience in national government was elevated
to the highest office in the land because a fortune was spent on making
voters feel good about voting for him. Not based on the issues, but
based entirely on externals.
Obama did not have an aspirational candidacy, he had an aspirational
brand. A brand that people wanted to be a part of, because it made them
feel good about themselves. And so we learned that there is indeed
something worse than Bread and Circuses. An electorate that votes on
that is at least somewhat capable of using self-interest to make
judgments, but one that votes for the brand that feels good has
abandoned even the vestiges of reason and self-interest. Such people are
no longer exercising their power over government, instead they have
become customers, buying a product that they have no say in how it gets
made or what goes in there. Not because they need it, but because they
have been programmed to feel good when buying it.
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