Dangerously literal interpretations from focus groups place market researchers on dodgy ground, writes John Lowery
According to a leaked document, reported in The Mail on Sunday in December, the British Army spent more than £500,000 hiring brand consultants to ‘refresh’ its image. The consultants concluded that the Army’s motto – Be the Best – was “elitist” and “off-putting to potential recruits” and so should be changed.
If there is even a grain of truth in the report, it is quite simply the most asinine recommendation I have come across in my 30-odd years of conducting and digesting market research and yet it is emblematic of the literalism that afflicts the discipline [The idea was, eventually, ditched following an outcry – Ed.].
I’ll get to a general observation on market research in time but first my perspective on the specifics of this dimwittery, shot through the lens of a metaphor.
A very long time ago I played rugby for my school’s First XV. It was an honour to represent the school at that level; an honour that was recognised in the form of Full Colours. The award of Full Colours allowed you to wear a tie that featured the school’s crest rather than the usual jumble of blue, gold and white stripes and it identified you as a member of the school’s elite. Notwithstanding the fact that I was picked as a lock mainly account of my height rather than my talent, I felt a glow of pride wearing it as I walked amongst my ‘underlings’ from a biology class to double maths.
Our XV hammered some schools, scrapped a few victories here and there and occasionally came up against a team (usually a posh public school) that taught us a lesson or three.
In hindsight, I was a quite good player in a quite good team. But here’s the thing…
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When I ran onto that pitch before kick-off the one thing that was not in my mind was that I was a quite good player in a quite good team. Not one member of the XV entertained the notion that we were quite good. Had we done so, the opposition would have smelt it within seconds and we’d have been destined for defeat.
Equally none of us wanted to be inclusive. That would have meant fielding Billy Bunter from the Remove at scrum-half and surely being stuffed as completely as he was.
We’d have been better off playing as an elitist XIV.
We had to believe we were the best.
Now multiply that sentiment by a factor of a thousand and you might get close to understanding what it’s like to be a member of the British Army.
Whatever your views of the military and war: imagine defending the Al Asad airbase in western Iraq; imagine that IS snipers could appear on a rooftop any moment; imagine that a quivering Billy Bunter is watching your back; and imagine that you don’t believe you can be the best.
I fear that a fate worse than a 35-12 defeat to Millfield School would await you.
And a fate somewhere in between should await the market research industry if it continues to make such dangerously literal interpretations of feedback from respondents.
‘Continues’ because literalism and market research have gone hand-in-hand since the discipline first began entwining its tentacles into consumer opinion rather than observed behaviour.
Almost as long ago as my rugby playing days, I worked in an advertising agency called Lowe Howard-Spink. One of our clients was Whitbread and one of their brands was Stella Artois. We created a campaign for Stella that started out in 1990 with a commercial that drew from the film Jean de Florette. Set in Provence, a French speaking peasant exchanged his precious crop of carnations at a rustic bar for an even more precious pint of Stella. The commercial signed-off with the line: Reassuringly Expensive.
During the development process a research project was conducted that, amongst other things, literally concluded that Reassuringly Expensive was “off-putting”, because “People don’t want to pay more for their beer”.
Around the same time, Bartle Bogle Hegarty were working on the Audi account. Pre-testing gave their campaign the thumbs-up with the exception of one element – the endline. ‘Vorsprung Durch Technik’, was deemed incomprehensible and, yes, “off-putting”.
In both instances, knights (Sir Frank Lowe and Sir John Hegarty) rode to the rescue and persuaded the clients that they should trust their original instincts and run the campaigns.
The point is, the Army has to look down its nose at people”
Stella and Audi went on to garner 11 IPA Effectiveness Awards between them.
Returning to the Army; the brand consultant’s document wasn’t leaked to me and I wasn’t present at the focus groups but I can hazard a guess as to what transpired.
At a research group in, say, Basingstoke a man who gave his name as William B., gorging on free sandwiches and flushed with the idea that for once someone was listening to his opinion, commented on the line – ‘Be the Best’ – saying he thought it made the Army seem like it was looking down its nose at people and that it was off-putting to him and “I DEFINITELY DON’T WANT TO JOIN AN ORGANISATION LIKE THAT!”
The researcher, who had probably never played rugby, let alone been faced by an IED on the road to Basra, faithfully recorded this and then, in the debrief, recommended that if the Army wished to get more people to join up they needed the motto to be a bit more ‘Kum Ba Yah’.
The point is, the Army has to look down its nose at people. William B. shouldn’t have been in the group at all. And the researcher should have concluded that the answer to the question about the British Army’s motto lies not in whether it should change, rather in how it can find recruits who want to be the best.
The same applies to the market research industry.
John Lowery is a marketing consultant who has worked both agency and client side.
His most recent, high-profile contribution to the world of marketing was the strategy that yielded the #LidlSurprises campaign.
