The natie Blog

Sandrine and Philippe Raffin are the founders of LinkUp Factory, an exceptional Paris-based consultancy that specializes in helping brands and companies grow their business through purpose-driven strategies. Offering strategic counsel and brand storytelling guidance, they harness the support of stakeholders to drive systemic change and long-term success.

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Sustainability has been at the top of the global agenda for the last decade. Especially in Europe, consumers have become much more aware of the impact their choices have on the environment – and they buy accordingly. People seek out products that are more eco-friendly, more local, more organic, and more responsibly made. Will these encouraging signs continue in the post-COVID-19 world? Or will this be yet another moment that gets buried by economic reality?

In a recent editorial, a French philosopher wrote, “Nothing goes out of fashion faster than the future,” which sums up our ten years of involvement in sustainable business practices. As advisors on sustainability for businesses and brands, we help our clients define what this concept means to them and their company, and in the past decade, we’ve seen a lot of back-and-forth movement in business leaders’ willpower on this topic!

It’s certainly too early to predict the reactions of the global economy to the COVID-19 pandemic and the steps governments have taken to contain it. And the current rose-colored-glasses view of the post-coronavirus world calls for caution. We hear of immediate de-globalization, widespread relocation, a wholesale switch to electric vehicles, a return to sovereignty in strategic sectors – all good things where sustainability is concerned, but there’s also a good deal of naiveté involved, too. From the suspension of energy transition plans in Eastern Europe to the urgency for many companies to restore their bottom lines as quickly as possible, there is no shortage of reasons to keep our optimism in check.

However, after such a profound disruption to every aspect of the way we live, it’s hard to believe we’ll just go back to “the way things were.” So, in order to keep things in perspective and to get an idea of the changes we can expect, there are four key indicators we should all keep an eye on:

1.  Where there’s a (political) will, there’s a way

Whether through tax or investment incentives, re-emerging economic plans, or increasingly demanding regulations, we know that political will is a powerful driver of change, both at the national level and within the European Green Pact. Will long-term corporate behavior live up to the first promising declarations? Will the timing of changes balance pragmatism with real transformation? Will the rise in the power of the Greens accelerate or increase how much progress we see on these issues? Time will tell.

2. Together, individuals have the power to drive change

Each one of us has had a chance to step back from our day to day and ask ourselves important questions about our values, aspirations, and the paths that we’re on. Will our answers support a sustainable future? How will they conflict with the impulse to return to “before,” with its much higher levels of purchasing power? Will employees be better able to push brands and companies from within toward more ambitious commitments?

3. The choices of investment funds can have a profound impact

When Larry Fink confirmed last January that sustainable investing was becoming the norm at BlackRock, he was met with a great deal of skepticism in many European countries. Yet the power of investment companies to drive change through their choices is enormous. (Incidentally, it has been observed that socially responsible funds have weathered the recent storm a little better than others…) How quickly and to what extent will fund managers change their investment criteria – and what will the consequences be for the companies involved? We saw the recent battle over the climate resolution at Total’s general meeting – how often will this scene be repeated?

4. Business leaders’ personal commitments matter – if they live up to them

European readers will no doubt be aware of Danone CEO Emmanuel Faber’s groundbreaking commitment to sustainability, but he is no longer alone: last year, the CEOs of roughly 200 European companies expressed their expectation that the new European Commission will be strongly committed to the announced Green New Deal. And in an op-ed published in French newspaper Le Monde last month, 90 CEOs called for a collective effort to make economic recovery an engine of the green transition. Will these statements be followed up with more specific commitments? Will they actually be put into effect, or is this an opportunistic stance that will drown in detail? Will the leaders of small- and medium-sized enterprises follow suit?

Monitoring these indicators will help us get a handle on how the COVID-19 pandemic will affect the move toward a truly sustainable economy. And in the months ahead, every business leader will have to keep a close eye on what’s happening to make sure that don’t miss out on a single opportunity to transform their business.

One thing is certain: No matter how powerful or well-intentioned, words are cheap. But if the commitments we have been hearing from every direction are kept – if these words are followed by actions – the rewards for us, our planet, and future generations will be priceless.

Bruce is a much-awarded copywriter and creative director who has led the creative for some the world’s best agencies. Eight years ago Bruce founded IPNY, named one of MM&M’s “Ones to Watch” for 2020. Bruce is currently working on his third novel.

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This goes out to all you up and coming advertising creatives, who are up and coming in a world bereft of advertising education.

Once, in living memory, most agencies had programs or mentors to teach young creatives the business. The reasoning being, if you don’t know how we got here, how will you take us further?

But that’s for another essay. This one is about how I discovered why certain ads stand out like crazy – the X-factor that makes your heart beat stronger and makes you respond, without which most ads are pretty forgettable.

There were few ad schools when I was up and coming. I learned to create advertising the street way – by studying the marketplace and what won in the shows and judging for myself.

Well, you can know what works instinctively but it’s likely you won’t know why it works. And being young and ambitious, it wasn’t until my third Creative Director job that my understanding caught up with my instinct. That’s when I began learning from one of the art directors in my group. He was older and more experienced and, amazingly, his Italian surname meant “wisdom.”

John had no idea of the education he was giving his Creative Director. He would simply begin each client presentation with a story, a joke, a personal reflection, some way of getting head nods and eliciting from the client something like, “Yeah, I know what you’re saying, I know exactly what that feels like.” And then John would show how our storyboard or print ad evoked that same feeling.

“That feeling we have in common” is the real truth your ad is communicating. It’s the sympathetic connection that makes communication possible. That feeling of embarrassment, of joy, of dread, of pride. . .of whatever it is that underlies what you’re selling: That’s what makes your proposition real.

I started in this business when Ally & Gargano’s Fedex “Fast Talking Man” was convulsing the country. Watch it today and you’ll see something remarkable: It’s still funny. It still connects to the primal anxiety we all feel in trying to keep up with this “fast-moving, high pressure, get it done yesterday world.” That was its uncomfortable truth nearly 40 years ago.

Truth doesn’t age.

I remember once being closed up in a bleak conference room in sun-drenched Cap-Ferrat. It was the first-ever Scali McCabe Sloves Global Creative Directors Meeting. At one session devoted to creative trends, Sam and Ed showed the new John Hancock campaign from Hill Holliday. It stopped the meeting.

Each spot was written like poetry and shot like a documentary. One showed a young father who just got a raise cuddling his infant daughter as he whispers his financial dreams. The realistic film technique was different for the time and widely imitated since, but that isn’t what made it unforgettable. It’s the way we eavesdrop on a primal yet complex feeling – of joy, of worry, of the need to protect – that every parent knows. 

Please understand. We’re not talking about the “insight” that’s key to any good creative brief. That’s critical. But without the “human truth” you want to share, there’s no depth, no transfer of feeling, no magic.

Dan Weiden intuited this way back when “Just do it” began to underscore every Nike ad. In three words Nike told its audience that we get you – we get the wall of fear and doubt each of us has to overcome to reach our personal best. We feel it in those three words just as we feel it in Nike’s best ads, such as the print campaign that spoke to women’s feelings about fitness by speaking to the heart: What was it like to be the last girl picked in gym class, what does it mean to exercise, etc.

 

Show me that you know me – that you know what moves me.

The rest is support.

Once you understand how effective this element of shared truth can be, you start to see it everywhere, even in campaigns you hate. Benetton used to run beautiful but shocking print spreads, yet I never understood what their strategy for controversy had to do with their sweaters.

That is, until I saw an ad of three meaty, glistening human hearts standing side by side, one labeled WHITE, one BLACK, one YELLOW. Hundreds of well-meaning ads in the past had tried to say “we’re really all the same”, but here was that truth revealed in a way that touched you profoundly and made the name Benetton stand for a shared humanity much larger than a line of clothing. 

It’s fun to point to classic ads to show how shared truth makes them work, but you can deconstruct your recent favorites in any medium and uncover this human X-factor. Take the moldy Burger King campaign, which cleverly evokes a universal response – repugnance – to make a point about freshness.

Or the out-of-home campaign his opponents are running to take Mitch McConnell out of the U.S. Senate. Its cheery message hits low wage-earning Kentuckians where they live and stirs up everything they hate. It’s primal. I love it.

Believe me, there’s nothing revolutionary about this approach.

It has descended from Aristotle to Bernbach to the advertising craftspeople of today, only no one ever talks about it.

It’s always helpful to know why your work works. It makes us better communicators. Think of the rustle that goes through the audience in the first act of Death of a Salesman, as people feel pity and fear for Willy Loman and reach for their tissues.

That’s artistry. Can you do that?

Abigail Tenembaum is the co-founder of Virtuozo, where together with her partner Michael Weitz, she uses a unique methodology, grounded in theater, business and psychology, to work with senior executives and teams who wish to up their presence and design their impact as communicators and leaders. Abigail studied theater in Tel Aviv and holds an MBA from Columbia Business School. Abigail and Michael are speaker coaches for the renowned TED conferences.

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Every day, at my work, I meet people who want to be heard. To be remembered. Whether I work with a business leader to upgrade their impact, help a TED speaker prep for the biggest stage, or when I work with senior teams on storytelling, the desire isn’t just to talk. It’s to make an impact.

One of my clients, a tech CEO, told me a few years ago, “I know what you do. It’s not just communication skills and messaging. It’s not just presence. It’s H2H.”

Human to Human.

I still remember it as one of my favorite quotes. It touches something at the core of what I believe is great communication.

The techniques and mechanics of impactful communications have changed little since the time of Aristotle.  But other things have changed. A lot.  We live in an era of collective ADHD and endless messages. How do we cut through the noise? How do we grab our audience’s attention and deliver memorable messages?

In Aristotle’s time, and for many centuries, the speaker had control and power. Audiences were more captive. If my leader is speaking in the town square, I can listen to him, or I can stay at home. There was little fight for the audience’s attention. Having a captive audience wasn’t too difficult. 

Today, if my leader speaks in the technological version of the square (let’s say, my TV), he or she is competing for my attention against: all the books in my kindle, more than 200 TV channels, endless content on Netflix, my bookmarked library of podcasts, everything on YouTube, my Facebook, Twitter, Instagram feeds, and this is a very partial list.

Not to mention the fact that our grandparents were exposed to maybe a handful of communicators. Their teachers, bosses, leaders. 

Today, our audience is exposed to hundreds. Great technique is expected and can be spotted immediately. Though, it is definitely not enough.

Captive audience is a thing of the past.

It will not come back anytime soon. For communicators, this means that we need to think about our audience and our message differently. Using the tools that were effective even 50 years ago, is not enough to cut through the noise, to grab the attention, to be memorable.

We need to think differently. It’s no longer about being a talented speaker. Today, more than ever, it’s about the audience.  What do THEY need? What’s important to them? What will grab their attention right now? What will move them to action?

Why should they give me their most fought over asset – their attention?

This means that we, as speakers, need to refocus our own attention and think from our audience’s point of view.

We, as humans, know how to do this. Think about it. When we communicate with a young child or a toddler, we do this instinctively. We modify our voice. We adjust our language, our speed, our pitch. We use our bodies. We become expressive. We use short, simple messages. We get right to the point. Can you imagine telling a 2-year old “before I start telling you this story, let me give you some background…” or “Let me start with the history of Little Red Riding Hood before we get to that famous morning”? 

The beautiful thing is, when we speak to these young audiences, we don’t rehearse and plan and strategize. We just see the person in front of us. We really SEE them. We fully focus our attention on the child and what SHE needs. 

Our grown-up audience doesn’t lose this need to be seen and spoken TO. (“To“ and not “at”.) We, as communicators, have that capability. It’s about mindset… and attention. 

Giving our full attention to the audience – not to my text, not to how I am feeling, not to my judgments – is what our audiences crave. What we all crave. And the beauty is, this can be learned and practiced.

TED speaker Esther Perel demonstrates this beautifully in one of her TED talks, both in her text and in her delivery. She starts by asking questions, provocative questions, and she pauses after each question. Giving the audience time to think. Then, at around the 19th minute of this particular talk, there is a golden moment. When, together with Michael my partner, we worked with Esther on her talk, she added a sentence regarding her accent (no spoilers). On stage, Esther didn’t change her text, but she added a small pause that created an intimate and funny moment. It wasn’t planned or rehearsed. It just happened. It happened on stage because, as you can see throughout her talk, her attention was on the audience. She could sense them. Her pause is answered with laughter from the audience. And here is where the magic happens. Esther pauses. The audience laughs. Esther’s face lights up in a smile as a reaction to the laughter. An intimate, powerful exchange between humans. Without a word being uttered. Esther told the audience: “I see you. I care about you. And your reaction moves me.”

Esther’s talk has over 15 million views.

In an era of collective ADHD and an endless abundance of messages, having someone really see ME, as a human, becomes increasingly rare. Today, seeing your audience is the new superpower.  Especially for leaders. When we feel like our leaders see us, we know we matter. In return, we give our attention, and often even more.

This is the essence of H2H.

When we truly see the audience, when we speak in a way they can hear, we connect fully to them as humans. And when we humans are connected, we can do great things together. 

Dana is a freelance writer and co-founder of Quiver and is Natie family. He’s worked in advertising for over two decades and currently serves as ECD for Sanders\Wingo in El Paso. He holds a BA in psychology from SUNY Binghamton and studied at SVA and Emerson. He’s judged multiple award shows including The One Show, has self-published 2 children’s books, founded an art gallery and literacy event, enjoys photography, road biking, writing and making art. He’s a proud member of creative collective the Brotherhood of Awesome, lives in Houston with his wife, daughter, son, and dog Zuma.  

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If you’ve never watched the Norman Lear documentary Just Another Version of You, I recommend you put it in your queue and, during your copious spare time while we’re still quarantining, make time for it. If you don’t know who Norman Lear is, you’ve likely been impacted by his work, one way or another, directly or indirectly, perhaps unconsciously.

Lear was arguably one of the greatest television writing, producing, directing minds of all time. He’s been honored at the Kennedy Center. He’s written books. He’s won four Emmy awards and has his own Hollywood star. Not that any of these things is a true measure of excellence. Let’s just say I believe he’s worthy of all the praise that has come his way.

I grew up on many of his shows. The Jeffersons. Good Times. All in the Family. The Facts of Life. Sanford and Son. Maude and its future spinoff, The Golden Girls, were a little bit out of my wheelhouse, but I’m still familiar. The list goes on.

At the same time, as a kid growing up in the ‘70s and ‘80s, I was watching The Brady Bunch, I Love Lucy, Different Strokes, Silver Spoons, Charlie’s Angels, Starsky and Hutch, Gilligan’s Island, MASH, CHiPs, Magnum P.I., The A-Team, Knight Rider. Caught a little Bewitched with Darren the ad guy. Never really got down with The Partridge Family, Green Acres, or Dennis the Menace, but I did catch an episode every now and again. 

The Dukes of Hazzard was very much on my radar. I loved me some Bo and Luke Duke. I think most teenage boys would agree Catherine Bach in the role of Daisy Duke was eye-poppingly good. No posters on my walls but she lived vividly in my dreams. She was something special. So special was she, in fact, that there was a song written about her that gained notable popularity. Perhaps you’ve heard it. If not, there’s another late night rabbit hole for you to chase down. You’re welcome.

I loved me some Cooter and Uncle Jesse. Wasn’t a big fan of Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane or Boss Hogg. I think that was by design and the bad guy-good guy dynamic was set up that way. But the show? I loved it. Also, at the time, never did take issue with the General Lee. Something about the way that car was decorated elevated it above just another Confederate flag. And, in fact, at that point in my life, I didn’t even know what a Confederate flag was. Had no idea what it represented. To me, it was little more than a fancy car with a nice paint job. And I loved the way those Duke boys climbed into it and muddy-back road-high-speed-chased their way out of each seemingly impossible situation. I loved the way they were always on the right side of the law. And back then, as a kid, while watching, it wasn’t a matter of black vs white. It was a matter of good and bad. And fun or not fun. Even the bad guy characters (Coltrane and Hogg) were laughable and lovable.

Indeed, it was a much simpler time.

Why all of those shows worked then in a way they wouldn’t work now, I can’t completely explain. I think it’s just that the fullness of cultural experiences has changed. Views have expanded and some segments of the population have grown beyond the limitations of what we were once perceived (and allowed) to be. Perhaps we all have.

Why is any of this relevant? What does any of this have to do with anything? It’s all storytelling. In the end, when communicating, whether in a feature-length documentary or in 120 characters, it’s all about the narrative. Over the years, for Black men, other people of color, and other marginalized groups the world over, we’ve lost control of the narrative and for me, personally, it’s time to take it back. How do we even begin to do that?

A friend once told me, perception is reality. What does this mean? In a world full of misinformation and disinformation, there are storylines that get taken as gospel when, in fact, they are a far cry from what we know to be true. Let’s consider recent events. From one side, the perception may be that Black people are riotous thugs setting fire to their own communities because savagery is in their DNA. From the other side, a perception may be that police officers consistently single out innocent Black men going about their business and kill them without mercy for no other reason than the color of their skin.

From another side, perception may be that George Floyd was a multiple-offending criminal who spent his life in and out of prison. From another side, a perception may be that George Floyd was a decent human being who, for various reasons, got caught up in the wrong things due to inequities in the system. None of these things is wholly accurate but each is laced with some semblance (or perception) of the truth. And the key, to me, to moving forward is being objective about all of it. Leading with integrity, and being honest and responsible with the narrative. George Floyd was not a martyr. George Floyd was not a hero. But George Floyd is a symbol, one recognized globally, now eternally linked with the lifelong pursuit of justice for all people.

When I step out my front door everyday, do I feel like I’m being hunted? I do not.

Have I ever felt unfairly judged? I have.

Have these judgments toward me come from various communities (Black, White, Asian, Latino)? They have.

Do I then dismiss all people who fit within or identify as members of those communities? I do not.

Yes, members of the Black community—a community to which I belong—judge me. I’ve heard the same from friends who, by default, belong to the Asian community, the Latino community, the Black community, and, yes, the White community.

I’ve been judged for being too black.

I’ve been judged for being too white.

People have not often used the term “Oreo” to describe me (to my face, anyway) but the term does exist and, in its simplest form, it means black on the outside and white on the inside. Friends have shared other similar terms used within their respective communities. Banana. Twinkie. Coconut. Basically, what I’ve learned over time is that you simply have to be who you are. As they say, to thine own self be true.

As for the name-calling and the labeling? That may never go away. It comes down to things that people can say to help them feel better about themselves or navigate their own insecurities. Kids grow up throwing stones. As adults, we should know better and steer them (and ourselves) in a more benevolent direction.

Certain narratives handled irresponsibly, left alone, or taken at face value are dangerous. They perpetuate stereotypes and keep us from truly knowing people. They give us a false sense of understanding. They connect us with an archetypal version of an idea of what someone is or should be vs an actual living, breathing human being.

There is no single narrative to be crafted or shared to correct the many false ones out there. Let’s start with what some of those ill-fitting ones might be. Black men are criminals. Black men are more predisposed to violence. Black men are consistently up to no good. Black men are notably absent from the home. There may be a modicum of truth to some of these storylines but, overwhelmingly, they don’t apply to most of the Black men I know. Likewise, there are also plenty of examples of Black men being standup members of society and, in the moment, those get lost, overshadowed, or forgotten.

I suppose it’s not a single narrative that needs addressing. As I examine the events of my life, there are a lot of them—emanating from and maintained within several communities—that need to be addressed head-on.

For those of you who don’t know, there’s this thing called the One Drop Rule. As it goes, if you have one drop of Black blood, you’re Black. Not sure how much that applies in today’s world but I grew up hearing and understanding it. Recently, in my own sphere, I’ve decided the same logic should apply to all the things we do. Much of the burden of guilt gets laid on White people but, truth be told, there is much work to be done within our own community. Black people often put limits on themselves not imposed by others. Our talents are many and we are omnipresent.

For me, it’s this simple. If one of us does it, we do it. That applies to skateboarding, skiing, snowboarding, surfing, hockey, swimming, scuba diving, and anything else notoriously off-limits. Camping, golf, gymnastics, tennis. We have a presence in all of these places. It may not be a big one but it’s a presence nonetheless, and that’s how it starts. That wasn’t always the case—that we could function in these spaces—and, for that progress, I am thankful. These false narratives about all of the things that we don’t do are not only inaccurate, they’re damaging and working counter to the messages of hope and inspiration that young people of color and all young people need to hear. I encourage us all to do better.

For decades, I’ve been held captive by the limits others have projected onto me, or at least I’ve felt as though I could never be my whole self. And now, it seems the dam has broken and the waters of expanding our minds have come rushing in. For the first time in my life, as sad as that may seem, it is wholly liberating that I am able to claim my own personal version of Blackness unapologetically. Speaking with clarity and enunciation, having friends of all stripes, participating actively in sports or areas where we may typically not see ourselves, listening to Jack Johnson, James Taylor, Radiohead, or Martin Sexton—none of these things makes me more white.

They simply make me more.

I encourage all of us to live our lives and try as many things as we can, minus the shaming of peers and self-loathing that often comes along with it. There will always be critics. There will always be someone who takes issue with how you choose to live your life. But your life is the narrative that others need to know. Your narrative is what helps us move forward.

Your narrative is the truest version of the truth.

Bias is everywhere, even deep within us. And that’s a tough pill to swallow. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, it’s just the way it is. We can’t eliminate it. All we can do is work hard to fight the presumption that all of our experiences are the same. It’s ingrained in us as humans and, based upon the little bit of information we’re given at the moment of contact, we default to what we think we know.

To me, two of the most important ingredients in narrative storytelling are context and objectivity. And perhaps one of the reasons why Norman Lear’s wildly successful TV shows of the ‘70s and ‘80s might not work in the same way today is because our context has changed drastically. And while drugs, stealing, abusive parents, adultery all made for great ratings then as they do now, they don’t help dispel the myths. The stories of success, promise, positive outcomes, and optimism which we rarely see are, by and large, far less interesting than those of corruption, tumult, and adversity. The mundane makings of real life pale in comparison to the allure of fiction. You get no argument from me there. By comparison to all the on-screen melodrama, my life is boredom personified.

All I can say is, in an effort to take back the narrative, this is my Black experience. There is no universally shared Black experience. I may not speak for all Black people. Beyond myself, I may not speak for any Black people.

At the very beginning of my narrative, I open with this: There is no need to be afraid. There is nothing we can’t peacefully discuss. If we’d simply look for it, we’d discover a wide expanse of common ground. Even though we may not look alike, dress alike, sound alike, think alike, act alike, Norman Lear said it best.

I’m just another version of you.

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Photo courtesy of Memo Garza