Buy-Ology: by Martin Lindstrom
Buy-Ology: by Martin Lindstrom
Buy-Ology: by Martin Lindstrom
by Martin Lindstrom
Introduction
Let’s face it, we’re all consumers. Whether we’re buying a cell phone, a Swiss antiwrinkle
cream, or a Coca-Cola, shopping is a huge part of our everyday lives. Which is why, each
and every day, all of us are bombarded with dozens, if not hundreds, of messages from
marketers and advertisers. TV commercials. Highway billboards. Internet banner ads. Strip
mall storefronts. Brands and information about brands are coming at us constantly, in full
speed and from all directions. With all the endless advertising we’re exposed to every day,
how can we be expected to remember any of it? What determines which information
makes it into our consciousness, and what ends up in our brains’ industrial dump of
instantly forgettable Huggies ads and other equally unmemorable encounters of the
consumer kind?
Here, I can’t help but be reminded of one of my numerous hotel visits. When I walk into a
hotel room in a strange city, I immediately toss my room key or card somewhere, and a
millisecond later I’ve forgotten where I put it. The data just van- ishes from my brain’s
hard drive. Why? Because, whether I’m aware of it or not, my brain is simultaneously
processing all other kinds of information—what city and time zone I’m in, how long until
my next appointment, when I last ate something— and with the limited capacity of our
short-term memories, the location of my room key just doesn’t make the cut.
Point is, our brains are constantly busy collecting and filtering information. Some bits of
information will make it into long-term storage—in other words, memory—but most will
become extraneous clutter, dispensed into oblivion. The pro - cess is unconscious and
instantaneous, but it is going on every second of every minute of every day.
The question is one I’ve been asked over and over again: Why did I bother to write a
book about neuromarketing? After all, I run several businesses, I constantly fly all over the
globe advising top executives—heck, I’m home only sixty days out of the year. So why did
I take time out of my already time-starved schedule to launch the most extensive study of
its kind ever conducted? Because, in my work advising companies on how to build better
and lasting brands, I’d discovered that most brands out there today are the product
equivalent of room keys. I realized that, to clumsily paraphrase my countryman Hamlet,
something was rotten in the state of advertising. Too many products were tripping up,
floundering, or barely even making it out of the starting gate. Traditional research
methods weren’t working. As a branding advisor, this nagged at me to the point of
obsession. I wanted to find out why consumers were drawn to a particular brand of
clothing, a certain make of car, or a particular type of shaving cream, shampoo, or
chocolate bar. The answer lay, I realized, somewhere in the brain. And I believed that if I
could uncover it, it would not only help sculpt the future of advertising, it would also
revolutionize the way all of us think and behave as consumers.
Yet here’s the irony: as consumers, we can’t ask ourselves these questions, because most
of the time, we don’t know the answers. If you asked me whether I placed my room key
on the bed, the sideboard, in the bathroom, or underneath the TV remote control,
But if marketers could uncover what is going on in our brains that makes us choose one
brand over another—what information passes through our brain’s filter and what
information doesn’t—well that would be key to truly building brands of the future. Which is
why I embarked on what would turn out to be a three-year-long, multimillion- dollar
journey into the worlds of consumers, brands, and science.
I’ll admit, the notion of a science that can peer into the human mind gives a lot of people
the willies. When most of us hear “brain scan,” our imaginations slither into paranoia. It
feels like the ultimate intrusion, a giant and sinister Peeping Tom, a pair of X-ray glasses
peering into our innermost thoughts and feelings.
An organization known as Commercial Alert, which has petitioned Congress to put an end
to neuromarketing, claims that brain- scanning exists to “subjugate the mind and use it for
commercial gain.” What happens, the organization asked once in a letter to Emory
University president James Wagner (Emory’s neuroscience wing has been termed “the
epicenter of the neuromarketing world”), if a neuroscientist who’s an expert in addiction
uses his knowledge to “induce product cravings through the use of product- related
schemes”? Could it even, the organization asks in a petition sent to the U.S. Senate, be
used as political propaganda “potentially leading to new totalitarian regimes, civil strife,
wars, genocide and countless deaths”?1
While I have enormous respect for Commercial Alert and its opinions, I strongly believe
they are unjustified. Of course, as with any newborn technology, neuromarketing brings
with it the potential for abuse, and with this comes an ethical responsibility. I take this
responsibility extremely seriously, because at the end of the day, I’m a consumer, too, and
the last thing I’d want to do is help companies manipulate us or control our minds.
Until today, the only way companies have been able to understand what consumers want
has been by observing or asking them directly. Not anymore. Imagine neuromarketing as
one of the three overlapping circles of a Venn diagram. Invented in 1881, the Venn
diagram was the creation of one John Venn, an English logician and philosopher from a
nononsense Evangelical family. Typically used in a branch of mathematics known as set
theory, the Venn diagram shows all the possible relationships among various different sets
of abstract objects. In other words, if one of the circles represented, say, men, while the
other represented dark hair, and the third, mustaches, the overlapping region in the center
would represent dark-haired men with mustaches.