Seduction Through Trust, Research Paper Example

Seduction Through Trust: The Many Tricks of Cigarette Advertising

Vintage cigarette advertising provides an excellent opportunity to study the tricks used by cigarette companies to sell their products. The images they produced are studies in misdirection, manipulation, and the exploitation of public trust in celebrities and even dentists and doctors. Fundamentally, what cigarette advertising aimed to do was use public trust of a celebrity or of a medical professional to encourage customers to identify with the product. By so doing, cigarette companies differentiated their products from the quite similar products of other cigarette companies.

One very obvious theme in cigarette advertising is the use of expert testimony. As shocking as it is to the modern sensibilities, cigarette advertising from the early and mid 20^th century routinely featured imagery and even allegedly substantiating data giving a particular brand the endorsement of dentists, doctors, or scientists. Thus the first image (Figure 1), depicting a white-coated man with a dentist’s mirror. The ad proclaims “Viceroys FILTER the smoke!” and the man says “As your Dentist, I would recommend VICEROYS.” And then there is the ad for Lucky Strike, featuring a kindly-looking man in a white coat with glasses, who is smiling at a package of ‘Luckies.’ This ad informs the viewer that “20,679 Physicians sa ‘LUCKIES are less irritating’” and that they constitute throat protection against irritation and cough (Figure 2).

A full-page ad for Camels spells the whole thing out (Figure 3). The image and the text first make the case that the doctor is “’like part of the family,’” and then go on to make the case that a study of 113,597 doctors found that the brand most preferred was Camel. Fundamentally, these ads are about trust. They aim to exploit the trust that customers have in their doctors and dentists in order to encourage them to purchase Luckies, or Viceroys, or Camels. This is in accord with a well-established principle of advertising: creating ‘sympathy’ in the viewer (MacRury 174). The viewer needs to be encouraged to identify with the product, and there are a number of ways in which this can be done. The fundamental idea is to present an audience with something that they will like, something that will encourage them to make an identification with the product on the basis of that image (174). The underlying logic is on display everywhere, ‘on display’ being accurate in a quite literal sense. Why do beer companies (and many others) use sexy, swimsuit-clad models to sell beer? Simple: they want to get the attention of their main target demographic, men, and especially younger to middle-aged men. Why do a variety of companies use celebrity endorsements? Because celebrities are popular, often with quite particular audiences (MacRury 174, Sturken and Cartwright 27-33).

But why, exactly, should cigarette advertisers be so keen to use imagery and dubious claims to establish an endorsement for their brands from doctors and dentists? More precisely, why would they think anyone would fall for such advertising? The answer is partially that it took until the late 1940s for medical researchers to establish the causal link between smoking and lung cancer (Brandt 105). Smoking was so ubiquitous in the United States as to be an actual norm for men and women alike, including the majority of doctors. Still, as concerns about the possible deleterious health effects of smoking mounted in the 1940s and 1950s, the cigarette companies doubled down on their uses of doctors and dentists in advertising, trying to reassure the public that their cigarettes were safe (Brandt 106, Goodman 499-501). Of course, the tobacco industry also did everything it could to deny, long after it had been broadly accepted everywhere else, the link between smoking and diseases such as lung cancer. Related to this is the fact that it was the tobacco industry’s own efforts at obfuscation by fueling a bogus controversy that had delayed the widespread recognition of this link. It has been known for centuries that in pure form, nicotine is a deadly poison that can kill with as little as a single drop (106-107). This fueled an anti-tobacco movement from the nineteenth century on (107).

Tobacco companies have long responded to concerns raised by critics of tobacco use with skillful manipulation. It was in the context of growing public health concerns in the 1950s that the cigarette companies doubled down on their use of doctor-themed ads, and portrayed the image of their cigarettes as being less irritating—or not irritating at all. “Beware of Irritation” proclaims one ad for Lucky Strike (Figure 4). “Craven ‘A’ will not affect your throat” says another ad (Figure 5). An ad for Chesterfields featuring radio and television host and entertainer Arthur Godfrey uses Godfrey’s star power to lend credence to an otherwise laughably dubious claim of an unnamed “medical specialist” who allegedly found that a sample of Chesterfield smokers showed “no adverse effects on the nose, threat and sinuses of the group from smoking Chesterfield” (Figure 6, Elkins 71-75).

Outright misdirection and deceit, then, were staples of the advertising used by cigarette companies. As Howells explains, cigarette advertising at its most efficacious has generally given smokers feelings of justification along two dimensions commonly used to argue against smoking: the health risks of smoking, and (at least in previous eras) the perceived immorality of the practice (68). Thus the staggeringly dishonest claims that state or imply that a particular brand presents no (or far fewer) risks to health. Thus, also, the use of celebrity endorsements. Arthur Godfrey was one of many celebrities in the period of the mid-20^th century who gave endorsements to cigarettes through advertising. Howells explains that celebrity endorsements were an important part of the image of smoking, an image that had strong connotations of individual choice and independence from authority (68). The movies provide plenty of examples. Humphrey Bogart, for example, used smoking as part of his image of masculine strength, while Bette Davis used it to enhance her sexual image (68).

The Philip Morris ad featuring Lucille Ball, beloved television star of “I Love Lucy,” is an excellent example of the use of star power to advertise for cigarettes (Figure 7). Ball’s smiling face lends a great deal of credibility to the ad, and is there to elicit viewer sympathy: she was very popular during the period, and the show “I Love Lucy” is extremely humorous. The ad hypes Philip Morris on the grounds of taste as well as comfort, assuring smokers that they will have more pleasure smoking Philip Morris than any other brand they may be smoking at the present. The ad claims that the cigarettes are easy on the throat. More precisely, it claims: “your throat can tell that here, at last, is a cigarette not only good to smoke… but good to the smoker… good to you!” (Figure 7).

The ad could make the claim perfectly well without the use of Lucille Ball. What Lucille Ball has to do with the dubious claim that Philip Morris is easy on the throat is credibility: by enlisting her image, the cigarette manufacturer can take the claim and, in effect, ‘pin’ it to a star who was well regarded in the period in question (Lee and Um 355, Messaris xvi-xvii). In essence, the cigarette company availed itself of the public trust built up around the perception of the image of Lucille Ball. Indeed, trustworthiness is a commonly perceived attribute of celebrities: something about the public nature of celebrities, and the image they portray, makes people more inclined to trust them. They are well known and popular, and for many it is perhaps easy to conflate this, on however subconscious a level, with actually knowing them as a person: with actually being able to relate to Lucille Ball or Arthur Godfrey as if they were personal friends of one’s own acquaintance, rather than ‘merely’ being popular celebrities. Another aspect of this may be the fact that people are used to seeing celebrities in many different situations, and they command high profiles: therefore, it is perhaps easier to trust them, since they are seen and admired by so many (Miracle 3-31, Taylor and Ford 32-48).

Whatever the case, celebrities are celebrities by virtue of having differentiated themselves from the masses that throng them (Lee and Um 355). Because of this, what they have to say matters to many, and people often hang on their every word. Celebrity endorsements follow quite naturally from this, and the ads in question are good examples of the power that a celebrity endorsement can command. There are a number of different models of how celebrity endorsement works as a marketing phenomenon, which is to say as a psychological phenomenon. One idea is that the characteristics of the celebrity themselves are what matter: the characteristics of the celebrity determine whether or not they are considered trustworthy, or a good source of image with respect to a given product. On the other hand, it may be that source credibility is less of an issue in and of itself, and that what counts is source attractiveness (356). This is primarily related to the physical attributes of the celebrity in question: are they perceived as familiar, likable, and similar? (356). This alone may explain the use of Lucille Ball to endorse Philip Morris, though it is probable that credibility also came into play. Arthur Godfrey, it may be remarked, was almost certainly chosen for his charm and perceived credibility (356-357).

On the other hand, there is a good case that this cannot be the whole of the story. Source models may provide compelling explanations to a point, but they cannot properly account for all aspects of the celebrity endorsement phenomenon satisfactorily. Case in point: the same celebrity may be perceived to have more or less credibility based on what category of product they are advertising. The source credibility and source attractiveness hypotheses would imply that this should not vary: in other words, that it ought not to matter whether Lucille Ball was endorsing Philip Morris cigarettes or a particular brand of farm equipment. And yet, there is compelling evidence that it does matter, that audiences respond better to a particular celebrity endorsing one product as opposed to some other (Lee and Um 357).

The match-up hypothesis suggests that the reason for this is that there must be a good sense of ‘fit’ between celebrity endorser and endorsed product (Lee and Um 357). Lucille Ball must be a good fit for cigarettes, then—and indeed, one recalls how she and Desi Arnaz smoked on “I Love Lucy.” And indeed, the research indicates that the attractiveness of a celebrity matters only if there is a good fit between their image and whatever it is they are selling. However, the limitation of the match-up model is its focus on the attractiveness of a celebrity. The meaning transfer model rectifies this by focusing more on how audiences perceive a celebrity: what is that celebrity’s meaning for an audience, and how can that be made to relate to whatever it is they are selling? (Lee and Um 357). In the first stage of this model, it is necessary to consider what it is that a celebrity is known for in the broader culture: what is it that people associate with them? To some degree, then, for this to work very well the celebrity must be typecast. A versatile actress or actor who has performed many different roles would not be the ideal candidate for a celebrity endorsement, at least not for most products, if this model is correct. The more typecast the celebrity, the better the fit that can be achieved between them and the product. From this persona, whatever it is, the public can then potentially accept the association that the advertisement attempts to draw between, say, Michael Jordan’s athleticism and the sports drink Gatorade, to use a now-iconic example.

The study of advertising provides plenty of opportunities to examine symbolism, and cigarette advertising provides many cases in point. The cigarette ads that rely on the putative endorsement of medical personnel provide an excellent example of the exploitation of public trust in the symbolism of the medical profession (Finkelstein 213-214). By using symbolism, the ads encourage people to trust in the product because, after all, it has been recommended by doctors and dentists! The particularly interesting thing is the degree to which the use of symbolism elides the actual product itself in many ways. Reading these ads, one comes away with very little new information about Chesterfields or Luckies or Philip Morris, even if one takes the preposterous claims made by these ads at face value. In reading these ads, one gains no real new information about the manufacturing process of a Lucky or a Chesterfield or a Philip Morris.

In the 1950s, the last great hurrah for cigarette advertising before public concerns and the official medical opinion that informed them finally prevailed, cigarette companies went to a great deal of trouble to promote filters as a means of enjoying a cigarette without taking in any actual nicotine or tar—an enormously preposterous claim, to be sure (Burns 211). Thus, by a kind of alchemy as it were, the filter purportedly allowed the smoker to enjoy all the pleasures of cigarette smoking without any of the negative health consequences, a claim so utterly specious that it has been illegal to make for many decades now. It is in this context that the Viceroys advertisement (Figure 1) was produced, claiming that Viceroys filter the smoke. And this is the point: one does not actually learn much of anything about the process of filtration, certainly nothing useful, and its significance. Instead, what one comes away with is a distinct impression of an ill-defined effect: Viceroys filter the smoke, which somehow removes impurities and makes them safe to smoke, all without diminishing the pleasure of smoking. Most of this ‘information’ is entirely contextual, and has to be inferred by the mind of the viewer: filtering the smoke will make it clean, perhaps by some means analogous with the filtration of water. Of course, the dentist is there to recommend Viceroys, adding the credibility of an ill-defined authority, the Generic Dentist, to that of the ill-defined claim about Viceroys filtering smoke. The net effect of this admittedly brilliant marketing ploy should be to create a sense of differentiation in the mind of the viewer between Viceroys and some other brand, say Camels. Camel, to be sure, had its own ads stressing the degree to which Camels were trusted and enjoyed by doctors, more than any other brand of cigarette.

As Howells and Negreiros explained, this is how much of advertising works: to differentiate a product from its competitors, without actually telling customers much if anything more about the features and capabilities of the product (129). After all, how much difference could there really be between a Camel, a Chesterfield, a Lucky Strike, and a Viceroy? By themselves, the total spectrum of difference was probably relatively small: all used flue-cured tobacco in rolled paper, and from about the 1950s on, all used filters. Any differences in the sourcing and handling of the tobacco itself cannot possibly account for the whole of the respective successes of these brands. Rather, their packaging, celebrity endorsements, and use of doctors and dentists worked together to create an image for each brand, an image with which consumers could identify. This accounts for the success of cigarette advertising.

Cigarette advertising presents an excellent case of the manipulation of the mind to encourage customers to identify with the product. Whether through celebrity endorsements or the use of medical professionals, the ads presented here capitalized on the fact that people tended to be more receptive to certain messages if certain people were saying them. Through the use of figures toward whom the public could be expected to feel a certain level of trust, cigarette companies created powerful associations between their products and a particular branded image. These images, then, enabled cigarette manufacturers to differentiate their products in consumers’ minds, ensuring that people regarded them as more desirable.

Works Cited

Brandt, Allan. The Cigarette Century: The Rise, Fall, and Deadly Persistence of the Product That Defined America. New York: Perseus, 2007. Print.

Burns, Eric. The Smoke of the Gods: A Social History of Tobacco. Philadelphia, PA: Temple University Press, 2007. Print.

Elkins, James. Visual Studies: A Skeptical Introduction. New York: Routledge, 2014. Print.

Finkelstein, Joanne. The Art of Self Invention: Image and Identity in Popular Visual Culture. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2007. Print.

Goodman, Jordan. Tobacco in History and Culture: An Encyclopedia. Farmington Hills, MI: Thomson Gale, 2005. Print.

Howells, Geraint. The Tobacco Challenge: Legal Policy and Consumer Protection. Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing Company, 2011. Print.

Howells, Richard, and Joaquim Negreiros. Visual Culture. 2^nd ed. Malden, MA: Polity Press, 2012. Print.

Lee, Wei-Na, and Nam-Hyun Um. “Celebrity Endorsement and International Advertising.” The Handbook of International Advertising Research. Ed. Hong Cheng. Malden, MA: John Wiley & Sons, 2014. 353-374. Print.

MacRury, Iain. Advertising. New York: Routledge, 2009. Print.

Messaris, Paul. Visual Persuasion: The Role of Images in Advertising. Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE Publications, Inc., 1997. Print.

Miracle, Gordon E. “International Advertising Research: A Historical Review.” The Handbook of International Advertising Research. Ed. Hong Cheng. Malden, MA: John Wiley & Sons, 2014. 3-31. Print.

Sturken, Marita, and Lisa Cartwright. “Introduction to Practices of Looking.” Visual Culture: What is Visual Culture Studies? Ed. Joanne Morra and Marquard Smith. New York: Routledge, 2006. 27-33. Print.

Taylor, Charles R., and John B. Ford. “Research Methods for International Advertising Studies: A Practical Guide.” The Handbook of International Advertising Research. Ed. Hong Cheng. Malden, MA: John Wiley & Sons, 2014. 32-48. Print.

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