Searching for self in the modern ad

In 1925, a young ad man named John Caples was assigned to write a catchphrase to promote a music correspondence course. He sat at his typewriter and out came a headline that made advertising history: "They laughed when I sat down at the piano… But when I started to play!"

As the brothers Chip and Dan Heath tell us in their book, Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die, we live today in the shadow of that headline.

It's the classic underdog story in 15 words. Did you ever laugh at anyone who sat down to play at a piano? It doesn't matter. Since then, versions of this pitch have been inflicted on audiences everywhere: The skinny wimp who knocks out the bully after a muscle-building course. Or, "Give me five days and I'll give you a magnetic personality."

Actually this ad strategy combines a fantasy with another advertising staple: What's in it for me?

It's given us such vintage 1950s ads as "I dreamed I was a toreador in my Maidenform bra" — an enticement for women to break free of traditional roles while remaining feminine and glamorous. It has also bathed us in the kind of obscene electronic spam about penis enlargement that most of us have to endure daily.

Who can deny the fact that dreamy self-interest drives almost everything? From selling dish soap (your plates will gleam magically) to winning financial backing for budding entrepreneurs, which is the plot line on CBC TV's The Dragon's Den.

But self-interest is not just about winning. Nor is it just about the self. The Heaths, in their nifty little book, make the whole business of what's in it for me, a little more complicated, in a simple, elegant way.

The hierarchy of self

The Heaths tell us that self-interest is usually defined narrowly in terms of wealth and security. But if that's the whole story, who would join the armed forces? Or volunteer for Meals on Wheels?

Almost everyone conceives of themselves in broader terms. That's where the famous psychologist Abraham Maslow comes in.

In 1954, Maslow surveyed the research in his field, attempting to discover what motivated people. He came up with a list of needs and desires that people try to fulfill.

These needs begin with such physical necessities as keeping one's belly full and one's body safe. Then Maslow moved on to emotional desires such as a sense of belonging and self-esteem. Learning and aesthetic pleasure followed.

At the top of the ladder was self-fulfillment and transcendence, which means helping others realize their potential and moving outside of oneself.

Since then, other researchers have suggested this hierarchy of needs is not a ladder or pyramid, as Maslow had it. People's desires are jumbled about.

Sure, you might not worry about transcendence if you're starving or frightened. But beyond that it appears that most people pursue all these needs simultaneously.

Why vote?

As the Heaths point out, if you try to motivate people as if they were only in "Maslow's basement," you miss a lot of opportunities. Too often, pitching to narrow self-interest backfires.

They cite an American political scientist, Donald Kinder, who summarized 30 years of research and concluded that the effects of self-interest on political voting was "trifling."

Surprised? Just ask NDPers who for years have agonized about why people don't vote for what's best for them, by which they mean their party. When he was NDP leader, Ed Broadbent urged voters to identify themselves with "ordinary Canadians." But who in their dreams wants to be ordinary?

The same holds true in the U.S. In 2004, the journalist and historian Thomas Frank wrote a now famous book called What's Wrong with Kansas? He asked, among other questions: Why do people seem to vote against their economic self-interest? Why did Middle Americans vote Republican?

What he discovered (as have so many others) was the "values" conundrum. People vote on moral issues — gay marriage or abortion — that confirm their sense of identity or their civic, regional or religious sense of belonging.

That seems to hold true even as the rich get bigger tax cuts or the plant they work in is moved offshore to countries such as China.

I'm more motivated than you

Sometimes, say the Heaths, people are downright insulted if the pitch to them is starkly selfish.

They cite a study that tried to woo firefighters by offering a gift, in this instance a popcorn popper. The firefighters preferred to be lured by their sense of public service, their self-esteem. They all felt: We can't be bought so easily. We're professionals with a higher purpose.

In fact, say the Heaths, people habitually think that they are motivated by higher motives than other people.

Economists like to think most of us are rational money making creatures. But a newer theory suggests people make decisions based more on identity. When faced with a new situation, they ask themselves three questions: Who am I? What kind of situation is this? And what do people like me do in this kind of situation?

Just think of those bumper stickers that ask "What would Jesus do?" That's a classic sell that asks believing Christians to make a choice based on their identity.

Another example: Texas had terrible litter problem. Its highways were especially filthy. The standard, "Give a Hoot, Don't Pollute," meant nothing to Texans with a big anti-authority streak.

So, how do you stop the good old boys from tossing their trash out the truck window? By convincing them that every time they litter, they're hurting Texas.

A crafty campaign sprang up around the slogan Don't Mess With Texas, promoted by big-name athletes and musicians. Even Willy Nelson pitched in. And it worked. Bubba saved his garbage for the trash bin.

Sure, you can sell sofas to bargain hungry people with flashy ads like HUGE, GOING OUT OF BUSINESS SALE. Everybody wants to save money.

But even John Caples knew back in 1925 that a person reading his ad wanted to be the best he or she could be (wait, I hear a slogan there), a dandy piano player surprising people with new-found musical talent.

Now so much more — from cars to politics to clean highways — is being sold on what kind of person you think you are or want to be. Our ad types and consultants are reading psychology books and journals.

And they are finding that what sticks is what travels both up and down Maslow's elevator — your identity. Every stop lets you revel in your individuality.