Why the press is the ‘sorry’ medium

The UK chicken population – the ones that can read the major nationals at any rate – will no doubt be anxious to know what Tesco’s plans for them are.

‘Next step: chicken’ read the headline in a double-page ad earlier this month. But what fate awaits them?

Come July, the copy said, after sorting out the horse-meat problem, Tesco would be sourcing all its fresh chicken from the UK. But what about the frozen chicken, reputedly sourced from Brazil and other far-flung destinations? And what conditions will these British chickens be raised in? Piled high in barns with no space and no natural light? Or free to roam, as if in some rural idyll?

The copy, alas, which promised that Tesco was ‘changing’ and henceforth reinventing itself as a ‘big supporter’ of British agriculture, shed no light at all.

Which, to me, would rather seem to defeat the object of what is the latest in a stream of corporate mea culpas from Tesco. Or maybe that was the point.

Now, it is not the purpose of this column to go into the rights and wrongs of the food supply chain and Tesco’s attempts to defend itself (a tactic which started almost two months ago, incidentally).

What is interesting, from an advertising point of view, is the use of press as the medium of choice for corporates in the public eye for the wrong reasons. Indeed, judging by last Sunday’s use by Tesco of the press, it looks as though the company is also using the medium as the place to make major strategic announcements.

University lecturer and former media buyer Vic Davies raised this a few days ago on LinkedIn asking why, if TV was the powerful medium, and radio the personal one, did Tesco use press to say sorry? He might have added that online was the medium of broadcast and social the medium of speed (readers might care to expand these rough-and-ready descriptors).

Good question. We’ve seen a lot of examples of this type of ad in the press in recent months, not least by Starbucks, but also lately by Scottish and Southern Electric (the Sunday Times in early March) and last week by Coca-Cola in the Times and the Guardian over the obesity issue.

The flip reply is that press is cheaper than TV, and miles easier to plan than radio. It’s also quick to buy and create copy for.

And to borrow loosely from Marshall McLuhan, the medium is the message – and therefore a serious message demands a serious medium. Can you imagine running a corporate apology on TV or radio? Who would front it or provide the voice-over? An actor? A TV personality? A corporate spokesperson? And how difficult would it be to get the tone right.

There’s another reason too: if you want to get your message amplified by the other media, especially the ‘serious’ ones, it’s hard to better the press. A lot of the Today programme’s material comes from that day’s press; ditto other radio and TV channels. As a way of influencing the influencers, press works better.

And it’s the press ads that drive people either to Tesco’s Facebook page, or this site where it spells out more clearly what it is trying to achieve (even if there’s nothing about chickens).

All this comes at a time when the relevance of print as an advertising medium is increasingly downgraded. When even Sir Martin Sorrell has a go at print (it’s the kind of thing you’d expect a media buyer to say, not the chief executive of an agency holding company), it’s time to get worried.

Against this background, it’s worth remembering that when it comes to influence, in its widest sense, press can still punch its weight. It may be the medium for apologies, but it has nothing to apologise for.

Can London Advertising Week rival Cannes?

Next Monday sees the start of Advertising Week Europe, younger brother of the New York version.

It’s curious, though, that much as London might style itself as the advertising capital of the world, it’s never really made much attempt to turn that claim into something substantial or meaningful – as, say, the fashion industry has with London Fashion Week.

Instead, it’s been happy to let Cannes take that mantle, and how typically British that it takes an American outfit – the New York Advertising Week is now in its 11th year – to turn up and show us how.

Now London in March isn’t Cannes, not by a long way – no Croisette, long lunches, glorious blue skies, hot days, over-the-top parties, eye-watering ticket and entry prices or Gutter Bar – but maybe it’ll provide a meaningful alternative.

Veterans of Cannes will know that what started off as a simple international awards ceremony has now grown into a monster, bloated with its own self-importance.

New, grander, awards categories are invented every year. ‘Gold’ doesn’t cut the mustard any more. Nothing less than ‘Titanium’ these days. That’s inflation for you.

Even Bill Clinton turned up last year as a speaker. Kofi Annan the year before that, plus that well-known international statesman, Will.i.am.

At London, thankfully, pointless celebs will be thin on the ground. Instead there’s a full, not to say exhaustive, programme of 100 events including (full disclosure here) a partnership with MediaTel at our Media Playground event [the highlight of the week, Ed].

Of course, what London Advertising Week needs to really fly is its own awards ceremony. Instead, it is making do with the International Andy’s (that’s the Advertising Club of New York), a set of awards that don’t exactly make the creative community tremble with excitement. The problem is that the world, and least of all London, doesn’t really need yet another awards do.

Still, you’ve got to start somewhere. See you there – and at Media Playground where I’m chairing the Data Debate.