The invention of lying

I was fortunate enough to have an afternoon foray to the cinema yesterday, to watch Ricky Gervais' latest film: The Invention of Lying. For anyone that hasn't seen the trailers, the film is about a world where lying simply doesn't exist. In Gervais' dystopia, not lying also requires brutally honest truth and as a result, no imagination or fantasy. As an example, the film industry is restricted to producing dry accounts of events in history, which necessarily entail no embellishment. Gervais is the luckless film writer, recounting depressing events that no-one can bear to hear about, such as the black plague. He is therefore quite openly and to his face, regarded as a 'loser'.

I won't give away much more than that about the plot itself, but one part of the film that is worth drawing attention to, is the scene that depicts a 'real world' coke advert. In the advert the CEO of Coca Cola explains that he is asking us to buy coke so that he can make a profit. He admits that too much coke can cause obesity and it is just flavoured water after all, but he'd still like us to buy it. Quite a world away from advertising as we know it.

Of course what the unflinching nature of this advert implies, is that marketing is in essence, lying. And that in fact all forms of imagination carry with them a level of deceit. It's an interesting thought and I'm sure one that has occurred to most people at some point. Marketing, by its very nature, is trying to dupe us into believing things that are more often than not, untrue.

To some degree this does hold water. If a company is trying to convince you that by using a particular brand of mobile phone you'll have better relationships with your friends, then of course that's not true. But it's worth bearing in mind that adverts very rarely tell us something as a direct lie: it's all implied. The line 'We're better. Connected' does leave us to believe that the mobile provider in question can bring more to our relationships, but there is a big difference between this strapline and saying 'We guarantee people will like you more when you use us.' Some marketeers do use the word 'guarantee' and that's where I feel the line has been crossed.

Marketing is fine when it's glossing things up for you; it's telling you what you want to hear. In fact, like anything that uses a bit of imagination, a lot of advertising is actually quite enjoyable. Not because people have been sucked into a world where they believe word for word what they are being told, but because there are many clever and amusing ideas in advertising. Take the award-winning 'compare the meerkat' campaigns. Many people like this advert because it's downright entertaining, not because they love the idea of comparing the market. At least I hope that's the case...

It is, however, somewhat galling when you do see companies taking things too far and using loaded words like guarantee. Online dating sites are often quite guilty of this, as are age reversal creams. As if a person would want to put themselves through the process of proving that they are not actually emotionally attached to someone, or showing that yes indeed, their skin is still looking old and haggard.

You can always argue that if someone is naive enough to believe what marketing tells them, then it's their own fault - but we need a balance here. Marketing should be aspirational, fun and intriguing, but it should not deliberately mislead or prey on people who are vulnerable to false advertising. With the advent of more socially responsible advertising, you can see how this works. As an example, drinkaware.co.uk is used on most alcohol adverts now, to encourage people to take a more realistic view of what alcohol does to them. You're still asked to believe that your life will be better if you drink Jack Daniels, Baileys etc. but there is a more balanced view creeping in.

I would never suggest that we should aim for the kind of advertising that I saw in 'The Invention of Lying' (much as it amused me). Marketing should paint a thousand pictures; it should be a kind of commercial poetry if you will. But lay off the hollow promises. We could all do without them.