Purpose is not a marketing strategy

I will remember 2020 partly as the year my inbox and social media accounts flooded with messages from brands expressing concern about the state of the world, and promising they were there to help. Some of them—Everlane, Glossier, Outdoor Voices, Reformation and The Wing come to mind—would go on to be flagged for dysfunctional internal practices, sometimes by their own employees, exposing the stark divide that often exists between a brand’s ethical claims and reality.

There is little evidence to suggest that cause marketing actually works. Research shows that customers still base their decisions on value, quality and reliability. We like that Patagonia cares for the planet, but much of the brand’s value derives from the quality of its products, as demonstrated by the booming market for its vintage fleeces.

Taking a stand on social issues exposes brands to scrutiny from customers, staff and the media, who will be happy to point out discrepancies between words and actions. In an ideal situation, marketing campaigns should reflect actual values and internal practices, but that’s often not the case, and that’s not what most consumers want to hear anyway.

Danielle Prescod, a fashion media professional and co-founder of anti-racism consultancy 2 Black Girls, was recently quoted by Fashionista: "I don't expect social justice activism from brands," she says. “We live in a capitalist society; every brand's intent is to sell something... I pay them for a service and I expect that service to be done well. It's a transactional exchange and that's all it should be."

The hard truth is that our entire economy is currently structured around pursuing economic growth, and most businesses make decisions accordingly. This bottom line will conflict with other priorities until we collectively adopt new business models and ecosystems that place social and environmental goals on par with financial ones. In this context, concepts such as purpose and sustainability often fly in the face of reality.

Here’s Hailey Nahman, former features editor at the now-defunct fashion site Man Repeller, writing in her newsletter Maybe Baby:

“When Man Repeller readers spoke out against a certain type of content, for instance, but that type of content helped pay the bills, the bottom line took precedence. I may have found that distasteful at the time, but what did I expect from a profit-driven entity? The best check against a brand’s claim to be purely mission-driven is their status as a non-profit—or more likely, lack thereof.”

Man Repeller had built a brand on fostering authentic connections with its audience, which eventually fizzled out as readers were exposed to content that felt increasingly inconsistent and out-of-touch. The site attempted a clumsy rebrand, before suddenly shutting down last October. It was a lesson for any brand claiming to be mission-driven and community-focused without having the business model to back it up.

But that’s not all. I’m seeing businesses starting to conflate a sense of purpose, sustainability or responsibility with charity, expanding into areas where they have no skills or legitimacy to operate. 

Take the running brand Tracksmith, which is giving away small grants to creatives through its fellowship program, “with the aim of inspiring and igniting action within the larger running community.” The risk here is to launch initiatives without a clear theory of how this program will actually lead to short- and long-term impact—something nonprofits can spend years figuring out—and make a real difference. Can Tracksmith prove that its program is indeed having an impact on the ground? To whom is it accountable for reaching its social goals? Who gets to decide where the money goes, and on which criteria? A partnership with a local, experienced nonprofit evolving in a similar space would have made more sense here.

Or maybe not? Giving money away to nonprofits is something Gucci does through its one-million-dollar Impact Fund (Gucci’s revenue in 2019 was around 9.63 billion euros) to “accelerate positive social change in diverse communities.” Let me be blunt: dispatching small, one-off grants to organizations that are in no way connected to Gucci’s community (its staff or stakeholders) does nothing to fix the structural problems the brand has actually contributed to for decades. It’s like putting a band-aid on a whale, and might actually cause more harm than good if recipient organizations cannot sustain whatever initiatives they’ve put in place once the money runs out.

I’m questioning why brands turn to the charity model in the first place. Doing good is a full-time activity that requires a specific set of skills, as well as a legal structure that allows decision-makers to place impact above profit. Ironically, the institutions that have historically been in charge of solving social problems, and thus have the most expertise in doing so, have systematically been delegitimized under a neoliberal agenda. Here’s Elizabeth L. Cline, writing in Atmos in a brilliant essay on ethical consumerism:

“Neoliberalism spread the mantra that human needs and even solutions to social problems are best met by the marketplace and by capitalism—not government, civil society, or collective action. Out went strong environmental regulations, social welfare programs, labor unions, and, most crucially, our generations-long history and culture of how to make change through public rather than private means.”

I think we’re at a crossroads where brands are either buying into the fallacy that they can pick and choose social problems to gain clout, or taking a hard look at the impact they have on society just by virtue of existing.

There’s an emerging trend of thinkers and practitioners who dedicate their work to reimagining what our economy might look like if we prioritized impact over growth, and operated from generative rather than extractive principles (Marjorie Kelly and Kate Raworth come to mind.) Some are looking to the past for historical examples (Jessica Gordon Nembhard’s research on African American cooperatives is illuminating.) To see their work pick up traction is exciting.

Until those models become mainstream, brands can begin by taking stock of how much positive impact they could generate just by shifting their mindset and internal practices.

I loved what Estelle Bailey-Babenzien, who co-founded the fashion brand Noah, had to say about this in a recent interview on the Enough podcast. Being a responsible brand, she says, means “making the most responsible decision for people and the planet that we can actually make without having to close down the business”—note that Noah doesn’t call itself sustainable, a term that can be misleading given that the fashion industry as a whole is structured around destructive practices.

“Brands need to be responsible about being honest first and foremost, otherwise it's just hypocritical,” continues Bailey-Babenzien. “We try to be very transparent. We have our integrity, and people call us out sometimes for certain things, and we'll explain and tell them exactly what the deal is and why that choice was made, or just be as honest as possible.”

I’ve been keeping an eye on a number of brands—Veja is one of them, TIBI as well—who have navigated the pandemic with relative stability. What they have in common are strong values, a great relationship with their audience that allows space for honesty, a commitment to making responsible choices, and a refusal to pursue economic growth at all costs. Those companies have made choices during the pandemic that place their relationship with people, including manufacturers, employees and customers, front and centre. 

My role with Delfina is to guide brands through their journey toward responsibility, one that favours substance over style. My own approach to brand and communications strategy anticipates challenges and opportunities created by a brand’s responsible practices—or lack thereof. Using systems thinking, I look beyond typical areas like product category and competition, to include dimensions like culture, diversity and inclusion, sourcing, relationships with the local community and more. I use theories of change to set a clear, step-by-step path for impact. This may include partnerships, yes, but only when those build upon the brand’s existing assets to create real social value.

The benefits of this work are many, and range from increased brand trust to stronger relationships with stakeholders, healthier supply chains, and an increased ability to weather crises. If this is something you think you need, let’s discuss. I’m at hello@delfina.studio.

Photo by Teemu Paananen on Unsplash