BP brand plunges from Deepwater to Ground Zero

May 11, 2010

I’m beginning to feel sorry for Andrew Gowers. Having had an exemplary career at the Financial Times, he had the misfortune to become its editor. In the wake of a complex and expensive libel case, he was ‘let go’  by senior management in 2005. With contacts like his, why worry though? A glittering future in PR beckoned.

And so it proved when he became head of communications at blue-chip investment bank Lehman Brothers London. How was he to know that, in two  short years, he would be at the epicentre of the global financial meltdown? Never mind, pick yourself up, dust yourself down and move on to…BP. Weeks later, the Gulf of Mexico explodes into uncontrollable life.

Avoiding reference to Jonah, I’ll confine myself to the observation that, for a man with Gowers’ peerless experience of crisis management, he seems to have been pretty slow on the uptake. Yes, he’s been indefatigable on the airwaves, mainly pointing out that it’s not all BP’s fault. Which it isn’t: try the Swiss-based company which leased the rig to BP, and the US maintenance outfit which passed the defective shut-down valve as fit for purpose. Also, BP is only a two-third investor in the oil well. But no one wants to hear about that; certainly not President Barack Obama and the American people.

What Gowers, and his colleagues, conspicuously failed to do was mobilise their chief executive fast enough. The oil rig explosion took place on April 20. BP may not have known the leak’s rate of flow, but it certainly knew this was a very serious industrial accident indeed. Yet it was not until three days later that the company released its first statement from group ceo Tony Hayward and, as far as I can make out, not until May 3 that Hayward himself made a broadcast public statement.

Did it really take that long to determine this oil spill is quite possibly the worst man-made ecological disaster to date? Not in the minds of journalists who – like nature – abhor a vacuum, and fill it with speculation. And not – crucially for any crisis management specialists these days – in the social media space, where any half-way decent speculative theory gets magnified a gigafold. Does Gowers or BP viscerally understand this? I suspect not. Until very recently, if you had looked up “BP Oil” on Google you would have found hundreds of references to the incident – on blogs, Twitter, YouTube and the rest, but almost none seeded by BP itself. Does BP imagine its investors take no notice of all this? £19bn knocked off the share price suggests otherwise: they will get their information wherever they can.

Credit where credit is due, Hayward is now cleverly framing the disaster as a common threat, with BP in the front line of resistance. His language has an appealing Churchillian ring to it. But the initiative may already be lost.

Of course, from a corporate standpoint, BP’s caution is entirely understandable. Make light of the disaster while it is still unfolding and it projects an uncaring image which will do endless damage to the brand later. Rash admissions, on the other hand, will expose it to years of litigation, with its toll on management focus and corporate profits. No one knows this better than Hayward, who has spent three years cleaning up the company’s reputation and settling claims after the March 2005 explosion at  BP’s Texas City refinery, which killed 15 workers and injured about 170. Corporate negligence ill fits the image of a company that has struggled hard to position itself as environmentally friendly with a cuddly logo and a $4bn alternative “Beyond Petroleum” energy initiative.

And yet all that misses the point. The speed of mass communications these days no longer permits – if ever it did –boardrooms to dictate the pace of events. Another fine example of crisis mismanagement, admittedly on an infinitesimally smaller scale, reinforces the point. Johnson & Johnson is rightly considered a model in consumer marketing circles for the way it dealt with the 1982 Tylenol scare, in which seven people died after some pain-killer capsules were laced with cyanide. But now it has come a cropper, after the US Food and Drug Administration warned that some of its proprietary over-the-counter medicines for children (including Tylenol) had too much active ingredient in them, and thus failed to reach the acceptable public safety benchmark.

Although there is no evidence of anyone being harmed, and J&J acted promptly and efficiently in organising a voluntary recall, it failed to explain itself to anxious parents, who have become increasingly restive. They quickly availed themselves of Twitter, Facebook and various parenting blogs to express their frustration at not being able to get a straight answer out of the company about what was going on. This is only the latest of a number of poorly explained recalls, which could have catastrophic knock-on effects for the company’s reputation. As one parent, quoted in the New York Times, put it: “Another recall for baby Tylenol. Well no more baby Tylenol, back to generic brand.”

Although J&J can scarcely blame the forces of nature for its self-inflicted disaster there are, nevertheless, parallels with the BP situation. In both cases, the companies seem obsessed with procedures and asserting internal control, which conveys the unfortunate impression that cover-up rather than communication is the ultimate agenda.

As I commented in my blog post on the Maclaren baby pushchair crisis last autumn, a bunker mentality is the default company reaction in these situations, and it’s actually disastrous. True, some crises are worse than they seem; acting upon them could aggravate their severity, whereas left alone they may quietly subside. But can you really afford to take that risk? Suppose this is the big one, the corporate reputation-wrecker?

Whatever you do, don’t hide behind PR flunkies and hope it will go away. Get the chief executive out there early, personally engaging with the media. Maclaren didn’t do that, with disastrous results for sales in its main market, the USA. BP and Toyota eventually did, but I bet they wish they had wheeled them out earlier.

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Why is Dentsu selling a stake in Publicis Groupe?

May 10, 2010

It’s not only Publicis Groupe chief executive Maurice Levy who appears to be heading for the exit by 2012. Major shareholder Dentsu – one of the world’s largest ad agencies in its own right –  may also be preparing for a strategic withdrawal from the group at about the same time.

That would certainly be one reasonable explanation of why it has just offloaded a large slug of shares.

The shares in question represent nearly 4% of Publicis’s total equity. Pre-sale, Dentsu owned 15% of Publicis, making it the company’s most significant shareholder, on paper. But here’s where politics comes in. Not all Publicis shares are the same: some have double voting rights. Under the old regime, Dentsu theoretically held nearly 17% of voting rights, but placed 2% of these (ie, anything above 15%) in a partnership agreement with Publicis’ other powerful shareholder, Elisabeth Badinter – representing the founding family. This in effect was a double-lock, guaranteeing the family interest – also with 15% voting rights – reigned supreme. On the one hand, two major shareholders, with over 30% voting rights between them, could ward off any predatory interest. On the other, the excess voting shares arrangement meant Badinter had a degree of control over Dentsu should the relationship sour.

So how have things changed? To outward appearances, Dentsu has managed to squeeze €218m out of Publicis at a rather inconvenient time and given back very little in return. Under a prior agreement, it had to offer the 7.5 million shares to Badinter (on a first-refusal basis). There was little choice but to buy and cancel them (unless of course Publicis is looking for another powerful outside stakeholder, which I doubt). And yet Dentsu has hung on to its maximum 15% voting rights, and still retains two members on the Publicis supervisory board.

Is this the first of a series of carefully controlled tranche sales that will eventually result in Dentsu’s exit from the strategic partnership? Quite possibly. It’s easy to see what Publicis has got from the deal over the years (lots of money and a strategic leg-up in the Far East); less so to discern Dentsu’s advantage. For a start, Dentsu management and shareholders must harbour some resentment over the ¥38bn (€320m) writedown on the Publicis stake they had to swallow last year, which helped push the Japanese group into its first loss since 1978. This much is certain: the share sale is another indication that Publicis Groupe is entering an interesting period of flux.


I-Level default sends tremors through the industry

May 6, 2010

For those in marcoms, the descent of digital agency I-Level into administration has some alarming echoes of the sovereign debt crisis being played out in Greece.

Just a few short months ago, no one would have seriously contemplated the possibility of either event. Now, we’re beginning to worry that this portends the second leg of financial meltdown, and that a domino effect will ensue.

I don’t want to push the parallel too far, of course. I-Level’s management was always infinitely more competent than that of the Greek economy. Nonetheless, for those who had eyes to see it, this was a calamity waiting to happen. The detonator clock started ticking in February when I-Level, in alliance with Starcom MediaVest, lost out to WPP’s GroupM in a pitch for the COI’s £250m consolidated media planning/buying account. Up to that point, government digital media business accounted for £40m of I-Level’s billings, or about 40% of its revenue. Replacing a slug of income that big was never going to be easy, but the difficulty was exacerbated by I-Level’s financing mechanism. Private equity investors ECI bought a 60% chunk of the group in April 2008, as a precursor to its international expansion. The deal valued I-Level at about £46.5m, but had the effect of burdening it with debt of £32m – much of it redeemed at an unsustainable interest rate of 12%pa. Put another way, that meant the group had to earn pre-tax profits of at least £3m a year merely to cover its interest payments. Guess what? The punitive interest payments kicked in just as I-Level was beginning to lose business. And that was before the coup de grâce delivered by the COI.

Even so, its disappearance is a shock. Set up in 1999 by Andrew Walmsley and Charlie Dobres, I-Level had near-iconic status as one of the few first-wave digital agencies that surfed the dotcom bust and managed to retain its independence. Among its blue chip clients are Procter & Gamble, The Sun, Orange, Sky, Renault, Comet and Samsung. Its top brass, who are now all out of a job, include respected industry figures such as Walmsley himself, chief executive Steve Rust and chairman David Pattison. Up to 100 people are expected to be made redundant. I-Level’s demise is a warning, not merely to those who would sell out to private equity investors, but of the fragility of fortunes, even in the relatively buoyant digital sector.

UPDATE: RIP I-Level. The administrator, Zolfo Cooper, has liquidated I-Level. Media owners such as Microsoft, Yahoo and Google will be faced with multi-million pound losses. It’s the biggest and most spectacular implosion of a high-profile agency since Yellowhammer went bust in 1990. The only part of I-Level to survive is the fast-growing social media operation, Jam, which was sold to Engine yesterday. That means about 20 staff out of a total of 120 have been reprieved.

ELSEWHERE IN ADLAND, I note the champagne corks are popping – and for good reason. DDB London learned this week that it had scooped the £75m Virgin Media account, previously with RKC&R/Y&R.

Woodford: Walking tall

Its understandably chipper chief executive Stephen Woodford tells me that the agency’s proposed integrated strategy was key to winning the business. Whatever, it’s not every day an agency wins an account that instantly boosts its income by 10%. And it gets better. DDB is heavily dependent upon international business, such as VW. Virgin is almost entirely domestic. It thus provides the London office with some valuable “shop window” advertising that should in time attract other local buyers.


A glimpse of stocking is nothing shocking for John Lewis

May 5, 2010

So, who tipped off the News of the World about spooky thematic similarities between the much-applauded new John Lewis TV campaign and one made for Italian lingerie brand Calzedonia in 2007? One thing’s for sure: the hacks didn’t find them by casually browsing YouTube for potential copycats.

Despite staunch denials from the Never Knowingly Undersold department store, the likelihood of – shall we call it – “comprehensive inspiration” is hard to deny. Here, helpfully juxtaposed, are two life stories about two toddlers who blossom into attractive brunettes, then get married and have babies. All tastefully arranged to the strains of Billy Joel’s 1977 hit, She’s Always a Woman. All right, there are significant differences. In the case of the John Lewis ad, the story continues into old age and, oh yes, it’s not actually the original Billy Joel but a special version sung by Fyfe Dangerfield from the Guillemots (very close to “direct quotes” in French, perhaps in itself a Freudian slip). Fewer flashes of knickers as well. Then, too, it’s undeniably better crafted and makes more intelligent use of the sound track. In fact, there’s little doubt that Never Knowingly Undersold’s is going to be one of the best regarded UK campaigns of 2010 (all the more creditable since a retailer is the client), whereas the Calzedonia one, though competent, will not have picked up any prizes. But hands up, someone at the ad agency Adam & Eve definitely had prior knowledge.

Now we’ve got that off our chest, does it really matter anyway? Advertising is a trade; there to titivate saleable goods, not create a work of art (although plenty in the industry would like to harbour that delusion). While we’re there, true creativity is extremely rare. I wonder how many Renaissance great masters were happy to pass off their apprentices work as their own? Quite a few, as long as the quality was up to snuff. But we don’t think any the less of them for that.

You decide:


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