Why Dentsu is taking a more aggressive global stance

October 1, 2010

Stephen Fry and Jeremy Paxman know who they are. The Great Polymath and the Grand Inquisitor both gave the Dentsu name a big leg-up last week by publicising some rather innovative animation involving an iPad and the London office – one on Twitter, the other on Newsnight.

Paxo: He's heard the Dentsu name

But do clients know who they are – those, at least, based outside Japan? That, in a nutshell, has always been the defining strategic problem of the world’s fifth largest marketing services holding company. Its dominance in one market – even now the world’s third largest – is crushing, thanks in part to the lack of conflict culture in Japan. But it has signally failed to replicate elsewhere the success it enjoys in its home market. Until three years ago, only 8% of its revenue came from the rest of the world.

“Wakon Yosai” – Western technique, Japanese spirit – may have been the underlying principle of Japan’s international industrial success, but it simply doesn’t work in a people business like advertising. Dentsu has been slow, not so much to recognise this as to deal with it. It has tried numerous strategic alliances with Western agencies over the years, none of which have borne it much fruit. The current one is Publicis Groupe, in which it is an 11% stakeholder (with 15% voting rights). It has also tried haphazard direct acquisition – most notoriously an already decrepit Collett Dickenson Pearce, for which it paid far too much money back in 1990. CDP withered on the vine; today its legatee, Dentsu London, is little more than a service shop for established Japanese clients like Canon.

But, make no mistake, change is in the air. There is an aggressive, some would say desperate, determination to do things differently before it is too late.

Take as a starting point Dentsu’s announcement this week that it is is pooling all of its North American, Latin American and European businesses (excluding Russia) into one giant operating company, Dentsu Network West.  One of the novel features of the new set-up is that it is completely captained by Westerners. Its group chief executive is Tim Andree, also ceo of Dentsu North America; its head of Europe is Jim Kelly – formerly a senior executive at WPP; its Latin American ceo, Renato Lóes – newly headhunted from Leo Burnett; and its finance director is Nicholas Rey, another new appointee.

This certainly marks a break with Dentsu tradition, which has always stressed tight Japanese direction out of Tokyo HQ. The key is Dentsu’s all-American pin-up boy Andree. The hulking  former National Basketball player (he’s 6ft 11in tall) and ex-Toyota-cum-Canon client has a special place in Dentsu history: in 2008 he became the first non-Japanese to be appointed executive director of the holding company, Dentsu Inc – a position just below the main board. It was a mark of the esteem in which he is held by Dentsu president and ceo Tatsuyoshi Takashima, who himself has a pronounced “internationalist” outlook. Mindful that Japan’s is a stagnant ad economy that has recently slipped behind China’s, could he sensibly be anything else?

But let’s return to Andree. During four years of frenetic activity as head of North America he has bought, on Dentsu’s behalf, Attik, 360i and McGarry Bowen. The last of these has, for the first time, enabled Dentsu to break into blue-chip clients such as Kraft, Verizon and Pfizer in their main market. DNW is Andree’s dividend – the roll-out of his North American model to Europe and Latin America.

The promotion of Andree is not the only indicator of strategic change at Dentsu. It has been unusually vigorous in trying to buy up the few independent digital assets still remaining. A $600m pre-emptive bid for AKQA, flagged up in an earlier post, is currently capturing the headlines. But let’s not forget the bitter contest over Razorfish, in which Dentsu put $700m on the table, only to lose out to its “strategic partner” Publicis – even though it came in with a lower bid.

There has been internal scepticism of the Publicis/Dentsu deal – as a strategic asset rather than an investment – right from its inception in 2002; the Razorfish fiasco seems to have brought that to a head. Dentsu has already begun to pull out of Publicis; total disengagement by 2012, when the agreement comes up for renewal, would be no surprise.

In short, Dentsu has belatedly realised it has no choice but to aggressively go it alone if it is to be anything more than a powerful regional player. Such behaviour is contrary to everything in its tradition, which is internationally passive while also very controlling. The small-print in the DNW initiative hints at much greater devolution from Tokyo – especially in the matter of strategic acquisitions. That remains to be seen.

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Baz, Big Brother’s Hero of Our Time

August 27, 2009

Peter BazalgetteI am indebted to my former colleague, Iain Murray, for reminding me not so much that Peter Bazalgette – the impresario behind Big Brother – is the great-great-grandson of Sir Joseph Bazalgette, but of what they have in common. It seems that genetic inheritance, if dominant enough, will out. Sir Joseph was an eminent Victorian engineer, one of whose grand achievements was the construction of the London sewerage system. Peter’s great achievement has been mapping the cesspool of the human soul, via reality television.

The first was undoubtedly a philanphropist, who happened to work for money. The other, I’m not so sure about. Gifted, witty, an after-dinner speaker worth paying money to hear; commercially adroit; along with David Elstein one of the most intelligent and perceptive commentators on the current media scene; a first-class psychologist. Yes, all these things are true. And yet the key adjective that comes to mind is “cynical”: not in his manner, but in the nature of his achievement. It’s the kind of cool, cultured cynicism of the Roman aristocrat of yesteryear, who – personally disdainful of animal bloodshed and human sacrifice in the arena – nevertheless proves a superlative organiser of the emperor’s “bread and circuses” entertainments programme designed to keep the unwashed masses compliant.

Bazalgette didn’t invent Big Brother, and he certainly didn’t come up with reality TV (although he has, in his time, been a fertile inventor of TV formats). Where he was smart was in grasping the reality format’s potential, back in 1999. To fill the void of values, in the wake of declining conventional ideological beliefs and the collapse of social deference, we have celebrity culture. That is to say, having destroyed the old idols we feel bereft and have to seek out new ones to worship. But where to find them? Magazines, from ¡Hola! to Heat, provide only limited production value; nothing by comparison with television when it comes to manufacturing instant stardom and providing gratification for our voyeuristic instincts. In this egalitarian age, the compelling thing about these instant wannabe idols is that they are just like you and me. All right, they may scream a bit louder, they may be more self-obsessed and emote a great deal more than the rest of us, but on one thing we can all be agreed: they, like us, have feet of clay. And in that we have the essence of their entertainment value.

Taking things a stage further, Bazalgette was quick to realise he held the whip-hand with our political, media and cultural elites – the “twittering classes” of which he is a renegade scion. They might sneer at what they saw, but by degrees they found themselves sucked into Big Brother’s maelstrom whether they liked it or not. And often they did not: it was a humiliating experience. Germaine Greer, for example, proposed herself as a human experiment, but found she couldn’t take the relentless exposure. On a personal note, Bazalgette’s most triumphant moment must surely have occured when he had to turn down haughty media grandee Jeremy Paxman for an interview with ousted BB candidate George Galloway MP, because it broke the House rules. As for the newspapers, he had them in the palm of his hand. Declining circulations and a loss of young readers meant they had no option but to cover the climax of a BB series on their front pages.

And where the newspapers led, the political class surely had to follow. “It is entirely legitimate to regard politics as a popularity contest,” Bazalgette once wrote. “After all, what you think of the person you are going to entrust power to for five years is pretty crucial. And in the close-up age of Big Brother and Heat magazine, our expectations are raised.”  A pretty flip explanation, you might say, for the appearance of Galloway or Christine Hamilton, wife of the disgraced Neil, but you know what he means.

Last and not least, Bazalgette was on top of the multimedia implications of reality TV right from the start. Only formally was BB a television show. It also embraced internet and mobile audiences, 24/7. In that lay a further little goldmine, surplus to Channel 4′s sponsorship and advertising revenue extracted from the TV programme.

I remember Bazalgette – at the Marketing Week Madrid Media Conference in 2001 soon after BB first aired – confidently predicting the eventual collapse of its blockbuster viewing figures. He, at least, was under no illusion about its ephemeral appeal. And, to prove the point, he has long since moved on from production company Endemol. Now viewers are down to 2 million, Channel 4 is finally calling time. But if BB is dead, the reality entertainment concept – or something very like it – is destined to live on.


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