The other day, Spencer asked me why we see so many ads on TV for cars and almost none for truly cool things, like Legos. This occasioned what was probably an overlong explanation of advertising for a six-year-old. I told him there are basically four reasons a company advertises.
First, to expose people to an unknown product.
Second, to preserve market share against viable competitors.
Third, to improve the public perception of the company or product, usually by correcting false (or true) beliefs about their flaws.
Fourth, to promote specific offers and discounts.
As I explained all this to him, he easily understood why Lego doesn’t really need to advertise. Everyone knows their product. There are no real competitors for what they make. People have a universally positive view of them. And they never go on sale, mostly because of the first three facts.
But all of this did make me wonder which sort of advertising purposes make sense for 21st Century American Christianity, especially since we are obviously not as securely positioned in this market as Legos.
Postscript: Fifth, to remind people in proximity to a purchasing opportunity about the product they like. This, I think, explains most of what little advertising Lego does do.
On being a non-symphony.
Imagine a symphony performing a complicated piece of music, with every instrument playing precisely the right notes at exactly the right time.
Now imagine that same symphony performing, except that a quarter of the members have refused to accept the leadership of the conductor. They’re playing the right music, but not in time with the others.
Now imagine that another quarter of the members haven’t even agreed to play that same selection, so they’re actually trying to play a competing piece of music while half the orchestra plays properly and another quarter plays to the wrong tempo.
Finally, imagine that a third quarter of the members decide that instead of playing their own instruments they’ll sit and loudly complain about everyone else’s performance; a cellist yelling at the bassoons, and a percussionist scolding the flutes. Listening to the pre-performance tune-up would be more enjoyable. Calling it chaos would be an insult to chaos; an embarrassment to the reputation of the orchestra and humiliation for the conductor.
Surely, I don’t need to explain this metaphor.
Now imagine that same symphony performing, except that a quarter of the members have refused to accept the leadership of the conductor. They’re playing the right music, but not in time with the others.
Now imagine that another quarter of the members haven’t even agreed to play that same selection, so they’re actually trying to play a competing piece of music while half the orchestra plays properly and another quarter plays to the wrong tempo.
Finally, imagine that a third quarter of the members decide that instead of playing their own instruments they’ll sit and loudly complain about everyone else’s performance; a cellist yelling at the bassoons, and a percussionist scolding the flutes. Listening to the pre-performance tune-up would be more enjoyable. Calling it chaos would be an insult to chaos; an embarrassment to the reputation of the orchestra and humiliation for the conductor.
Surely, I don’t need to explain this metaphor.
What is truth?
Imagine you were hired to be the public relations person for a major charity. Then imagine that you made the following comments:
“My charity is the biggest and best in the world. Anyone else doing this sort of work is nowhere near as good as we are. People who don’t give to our charity are losers. And you should be ashamed of yourself if you don’t get on board!”
How long would you retain that job? Not long, obviously. But why? Is anything you said factually false?
Presuming that it is the biggest and most effective charity, it’s all true in a sense, right? But that’s the point. There’s more to truth than just getting the facts right. And in this case, the tone and style of the presentation actually say false things about the character of the charity.
One of the terrible legacies of Greek philosophy is the idea that truth is entirely a matter of getting the facts right. But as Christians, we know that truth means accurately representing God, both in content and in character. That’s why unloving speech, even if it quotes the Bible, falsifies the very content it reproduces.
“My charity is the biggest and best in the world. Anyone else doing this sort of work is nowhere near as good as we are. People who don’t give to our charity are losers. And you should be ashamed of yourself if you don’t get on board!”
How long would you retain that job? Not long, obviously. But why? Is anything you said factually false?
Presuming that it is the biggest and most effective charity, it’s all true in a sense, right? But that’s the point. There’s more to truth than just getting the facts right. And in this case, the tone and style of the presentation actually say false things about the character of the charity.
One of the terrible legacies of Greek philosophy is the idea that truth is entirely a matter of getting the facts right. But as Christians, we know that truth means accurately representing God, both in content and in character. That’s why unloving speech, even if it quotes the Bible, falsifies the very content it reproduces.
Do you have standing?
For my work, I stay as informed as I can about what’s going on in the world. It’s a daunting task. But recently this challenge got me thinking about the legal concept of standing.
It’s sort of complicated, but the doctrine of standing basically means that anyone who wants to sue has to show the court that they’ve been harmed personally. You can’t just sue someone because he’s done something wrong. Only the state can do that, and it’s called a crime then. For you to sue, they have to have wronged you. Otherwise the court will dismiss your suit without even considering the merits.
In thinking about this doctrine, I’ve come to realize that the vast majority of things that trouble us are offenses not against us, and therefore with respect to which we have no standing. Of course, this is due to the nature of our massive worry-and-infuriation industry, what some people call news media.
So here’s my suggestion: If you want to be happier, the next time someone tries to sell you outrage, first check to see whether you have standing on the issue. If not, dismiss the case. Like a court, you may then find you actually have resources to solve what does affect you.
Postscript: Someone might reply that we’re supposed to have concerns beyond our own personal harm. I wholeheartedly agree. But another aspect of standing is redressability, the capacity for the harm to be solved by the person being sued. So, the second tier filter here would be whether you have any ability to influence the situation or whether you’re just being asked to get worked up over it for the sake of being worked up over it.
It’s sort of complicated, but the doctrine of standing basically means that anyone who wants to sue has to show the court that they’ve been harmed personally. You can’t just sue someone because he’s done something wrong. Only the state can do that, and it’s called a crime then. For you to sue, they have to have wronged you. Otherwise the court will dismiss your suit without even considering the merits.
In thinking about this doctrine, I’ve come to realize that the vast majority of things that trouble us are offenses not against us, and therefore with respect to which we have no standing. Of course, this is due to the nature of our massive worry-and-infuriation industry, what some people call news media.
So here’s my suggestion: If you want to be happier, the next time someone tries to sell you outrage, first check to see whether you have standing on the issue. If not, dismiss the case. Like a court, you may then find you actually have resources to solve what does affect you.
Postscript: Someone might reply that we’re supposed to have concerns beyond our own personal harm. I wholeheartedly agree. But another aspect of standing is redressability, the capacity for the harm to be solved by the person being sued. So, the second tier filter here would be whether you have any ability to influence the situation or whether you’re just being asked to get worked up over it for the sake of being worked up over it.
Spoiled rich kids.
We are all well aware of the danger that the children of wealthy parents will become selfish brats. The best way to combat this is carefully rationing what the child receives financially.
But in talking with the mother of a four-year-old today, I saw this same problem in a new context. She mentioned how selfish and stubborn her daughter is, despite money being tight. Over the course of our conversation, I discovered that this girl has both parents, two grandparents, and several other relatives in close proximity, all of whom dote on her, the only small child in the family.
Suddenly, it all made sense. Whereas some children are spoiled by too much stuff, this little girl is being spoiled by too much attention. With that many adults treating her like the center of the universe, it’s no wonder she believes the message.
Her mother and I both agreed that the best gift she could give her daughter was the natural deprivation that would come from having at least one more sibling to defray the focus. Like Augustus Gloop, this little girl was becoming relationally obese from a social diet far to rich in continuous adult attention.
But in talking with the mother of a four-year-old today, I saw this same problem in a new context. She mentioned how selfish and stubborn her daughter is, despite money being tight. Over the course of our conversation, I discovered that this girl has both parents, two grandparents, and several other relatives in close proximity, all of whom dote on her, the only small child in the family.
Suddenly, it all made sense. Whereas some children are spoiled by too much stuff, this little girl is being spoiled by too much attention. With that many adults treating her like the center of the universe, it’s no wonder she believes the message.
Her mother and I both agreed that the best gift she could give her daughter was the natural deprivation that would come from having at least one more sibling to defray the focus. Like Augustus Gloop, this little girl was becoming relationally obese from a social diet far to rich in continuous adult attention.
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