Coke and Pepsi

Coke’s Plan to Teach the World to Sing Is Almost Complete

Earlier this month, Coca Cola announced that it to open its first bottling plant in Myanmar – the nation formerly known as Burma. This now leaves just two countries in the world – Cuba and North Korea – where the brand is not officially available.

The Myanmar launch presents Coca Cola with an interesting challenge. Here is a market that not only has no idea what Coke tastes like (sweet, fizzy, vaguely fruity) but one without any previous exposure to advertising either.

I’ve no doubt that Coke will succeed, but I think the manner in which it will how achieve that success is very interesting, because it also tells us a lot about ourselves.

There have been other colas available in Myamar for many years; Max Cola and Star Cola for example. I imagine they don’t taste all that different to Coke, but whether they do or not doesn’t matter at all. Nor does the fact that Coca Cola needs to be served chilled and Myanmar is a tropical country where domestic electricity is in short supply.

Coca Cola is well aware of this, so on a practical level each bottle of Coke in Myanmar will come with instructions on the correct way to ‘enjoy’ the product and, by implication, the essential tools required to do that – electricity, a fridge, some ice – which are not widely available. Thus the second issue is boxed off: ‘What do you mean you didn’t enjoy it? Well it’s probably your fault for not serving it properly. We did warn you.’

Coke’s inevitable triumph – and it is inevitable – will in fact have nothing to do with what the real thing tastes like (The Product). It will be down to what the people of Myanmar can be made to believe The Real Thing stands for (The Brand).

Coca-Cola and Pepsi are long standing arch-rivals, but in terms of their chemical composition composition they are virtually identical. Despite this, people commonly express a strong preference for one over and above the other. A 2004 study into how our perception of the brands shapes our preferences was carried out at the Baylor College of medicine in Houston USA. In the experiment, one group of subjects was given Coke and Pepsi anonymously without any branding or indication as to which was which, while the second group was given branded versions of the colas to try. During the tastings, the subjects were given MRI scans to determine if anything different was happening in their brains. In the anonymous task, brain scans revealed that the group was relying exclusively upon sensory information to inform their preference, however scans revealed that the group with the branded products were also using a different parts of the brain, including the hippocampus, which plays an important role in the formation of new memories about experienced events. This showed that brand knowledge was biasing preference decisions.

And it’s not just cola. As we stroll through the supermarket aisles, with several thousand different brands on display, it’s easy to reach out and put whichever seems to be speaking to us into our basket, without ever stopping to consider why we’re doing it.

The next time you’re out shopping, try asking yourself why you’ve chosen to each particular item over all the competitors. You might be surprised how difficult you it is to come up with an answer.

What North Korea and Cuba are holding out against is not bottles of pop, but a ruthlessly efficient system for communicating ideas and making emotional bonds with people: a system that makes the frankly ludicrous notion that sweet, vaguely fruity fizzy drinks can have ‘values, heritage and history’ an unremarkable fact of life.

So where now the people of Myanmar thought, ‘I’m thirsty – I need a drink!’ many will soon start to think, ‘I’m thirsty – I need a Coke!’

Which is of course, the title of the song that Coke has been teaching the rest of the world to sing.

This article by Steve McKevitt was originally published on Huffigdon Post. Click here to see all Steve’s Huffingdon articles.

Advertisements

The Day of Peak Oil

Peak Oil Day

UK motorists have been celebrating a 4p reduction in the price of a litre of petrol. The news brought some relief to businesses and consumers dealing with the economics of rapidly escalating fuel costs. In February, petrol experienced its third 8p to 10p-a-litre increase in 12 months.

The price of filling-up was not quite as steep as the all time record-high of March 2012, but it came at the worst possible time: right in the middle of a long, cold winter.

There is a widespread sense of injustice about the price we’re paying for our fuel. Each increase is met with outrage and often organised opposition, while a furore greets any energy company announcing profits.

What people want is simple enough – to pay less at the pumps – but in practice, and despite George Osbourne’s suspension of a 3p increase in fuel duty in this year’s budget, that is probably beyond the ability of anyone to deliver.

The price of oil has quadrupled over the past decade from $25 per barrel in 2002 to $110 in 2012. All the forecasts predict that it will continue rise. That is not surprising because our entire industrial and agricultural system relies upon a constant supply of oil. Currently we burn through 90 million barrels per day (mb/d).

Over the long term it is difficult to see how demand will slacken. In 2030 there will be 9 billion people in the world, rather than today’s 7 billion, and many more living high-consumption lifestyles. As such, demand for oil is conservatively predicted to be at least 25 per cent higher.

Nor should we forget that there isn’t an infinite supply of oil. It is by its nature non-renewable: a ‘use-once’ source of energy. So even if we are finding more creative ways to extract what’s left one day we are going to run out. It’s impossible to know for sure how much oil remains and we won’t know for certain until we reach a point where we can’t extract enough to satisfy demand.

‘Peak Oil’ is the term used to describe that point: when the maximum rate of global petroleum extraction is reached, after which the rate of production enters into terminal decline. The idea of peak oil is based on observations of production from existing oil wells and fields combined with estimates about the likelihood and size of undiscovered reserves.

The Day of Peak Oil itself is impossible to estimate, because the world’s reserves of oil remain hidden from us. We may have already hit peak oil. The International Energy Agency believes that 2006 was the peak year of production for conventional crude oil, and even the most optimistic estimate forecasts that production will decline after 2020.

Environmentalists reading might be inclined to cheer. Their argument is that market forces will push consumers to make better decisions about energy use and conservation, and create an opportunity for alternative fuels. That is almost certainly true, but ignores the fact that the high price of fuel is not simply due to demand, but moreover to the rapidly rising cost of extracting whatever is left.

Whichever projection is correct, it is highly unlikely that we will ever be able to increase production much beyond 90 mb/d; a lot less than we are predicted to need. So while it is inevitable that oil will run out, long before then, it will have become prohibitively expensive.

We can but imagine the impact that will have on economic growth. The current price of oil is having a hugely negative impact on the global recovery.

The irony is that there is no economic or techological reason for our continued reliance on petroleum. Alternative liquid fuels do exist today. Methanol is one such viable alternative, offering convenience and efficient energy storage on a large scale over without any of the shortcomings of biodiesel, hydrogen or battery power.

So what’s stopping us?

There is a widely held misconception, among politicians and the general public alike, that addressing this problem is exclusively the domain of science and engineering. That is simply not true. Technological solutions largely exist today. There is no major breakthrough waiting to happen, nor is one necessarily required.

The key obstacles to achieving energy sustainability are not technical and scientific, but in fact the political and public understanding of the issue.

Historically, energy transitions take 35-50 years to happen. There’s no reason to believe that the move we must make to a post-carbon economy is going to be any quicker, and a great deal to suggest that it will take much longer. Making the kind of decisions that will enable us to do that takes brave politicians with the vision to see a pay-off down the line, unblinded by the short-termism that blights all our current crop of political leaders. Certainly there is no sign of anyone making them.

It is an incontrovertible fact that at some point in the future, we are going to need an alternative to oil – and to coal and gas – to power our homes and industries and to fuel our trains, planes and automobiles.

Surely it makes sense to do so, while there’s enough fossil fuel left to allow us to do so?

This article by Steve McKevitt was originally published on Huffigdon Post. Click here to see all Steve’s Huffingdon articles.

Football Crazy – Why I Blame the Parents

Mad Dad

It was Sunday afternoon. I was cold, wet and bored. And a 13-year-old boy had just called me a ‘fucking bastard’. I’d never met him before, but judging from the tone of his sudden outburst, it was clear that he was either a Tourette’s sufferer or I’d inadvertently done something to annoy him.

I wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

A week later, in a completely separate incident, a fully grown man (I’m not good with ages, but I’d say he was about 50) called me a ‘fucking dickhead’. I’d never met him before either.

A pattern was emerging: clearly I needed to moderate my behaviour if I wanted to stop irritating strangers, and being the decisive type, that’s what I did: I told him that if he felt like that he could ‘run the fucking line’ himself.

This is the kind of behaviour, completely unacceptable in the real world, that passes for normal in the world of kids’ football. Both incidents occurred while I was filling in as a linesman to the best of my abilities. I’m not a linesman – don’t pretend to be – and I don’t enjoy it (and not just because of the abuse). In fact it’s true to say I’m not particularly good at it, even though, in contrast to a lot of the parents watching, I do understand the offside rule.

The reason I was doing it is because 1) no-one else would, and 2) I know enough about football to understand that without linesmen, the referee’s job is almost impossible and the inevitable mistakes usually make matters pitch-side, even more hostile than usual.

The problem of spectators at junior football is not particularly well documented. The FA is fully aware of the problem, but (and I expect no-one will be surprised to hear this) it is failing to do anything to tackle the issue effectively.

The key word here his ‘effectively’ because the FA, perhaps the greatest exponent of our national love-affair with due process, is certainly doing lots of things which aren’t tackling the issue. There are pre-match handshakes; forms to fill in; sensible codes of conduct to read; post match reports to file and the ironically named ‘Respect Barriers’ to erect, from behind which almost all of the abuse originates.

A few weeks ago we played the league leaders. They had not lost a game in four years, so the result was never really in doubt. 3-0 down, with 15 minutes to go, the referee awarded us a corner. Their supporters reacted like he’d ordered the fall of Rome, a full four minutes of threats and abuse followed. Play was restarted, after one vocal parent was threatened with the ignominy of banishment to the car park.

Sometimes, it’s more serious. Racism is not confined to the Premier League. To be fair, give or take the odd ‘Black C***’ directed at one of our midfielders (another issue the various governing bodies handle with consistent ineptitude) my eldest tells me that things on the pitch aren’t too bad.

However, off the pitch, my personal experience of insidious racism directed against our two gifted Pakistani strikers incredibly dispiriting. The weekly snipes about false birth certificates and part-time jobs driving taxis, are usually made with a smile under the auspices of ‘banter’ (which seems to have become just a euphemism for bullying), but, let’s be honest, they would never happen at all if the players in question were white.

Neither of the lads is the tallest, fastest or strongest, but they are both exceptionally talented and undoubtedly better than almost all the other kids playing in the league.

And that is, I think, the problem: they provide an inconvenient truth to the many spectators living out vicarious football careers through their sons and grandsons. The irony is that in the real world, statistically around 90% of those careers will stall once the lads reach 16. They’re sons are good enough to play in the top division of this league, no mean achievement to be sure, but that’s a long way from being able to harbour realistic ideas about playing professionally.

My own junior football career was played out during the early 1980s. Nobody was watching. Games were rarely played in front of anyone other than the coaches. Sometimes we even had a referee. At today’s junior games crowds of over 100 people are not unusual: each every one an expert on the game to some extent, thanks to 20 years of blanket media coverage and analysis.

In one respect, I am unique. I don’t live my football fantasies out through my son: I live them out through my daughter.

In May, the FA changed the rules allowing mixed football up to Under 14s. My daughter decided to give up her place at Derby County Girls’ Academy to play in the Top Division of the Sheffield and Hallam Boys U14s: the largest league in Europe with almost 1,200 boys competing in 79 teams across seven divisions. And one girl.

The experience has been as illuminating for me as it has for her.

To be continued.

A feature originally published on Huffington Post.

Five Daunting Words

Steve McKevitt

Are There Five Words More Daunting to a 45-Year-Old Man Than, ‘Eat Less and Exercise More’?

‘I didn’t realise that you actually went to the gym,’ Chuckled my editor, after I graciously agreed to provide him with a monthly column. It was an innocent enough admission on his part, but little did he know that he had effectively kicked sand in the face of this 45-year-old, 14-stone weakling.

‘We’re looking for an older man’s perspective on health and fitness,’ he said.

I immediately thought he was going to go on ask me if I knew any older men who fitted the bill, but the silence made me realise that he’d reached the end of both his statement and his search: that really I was, with my 46th birthday in admittedly advanced planning stages, that ‘older man’.

I thought briefly about crying, but instead decided to man-up and seize the opportunity. Why the hell not? After all, I have been ‘working out’ three times a week for the past 12 months… alright then, twice a week. Most weeks… And if my current fitness regime hasn’t exactly got me down to my perfect fighting weight just yet, then it’s certainly prevented me from thinking about taking up Sumo wrestling any time soon. My current weight is 91 kilos the same as it was 12 months ago. At a little under six foot, that still makes me technically overweight, but the lack of further movement northwards weight-wise, is a source of minor celebration.

You see my aim was to stem the glacial process that has seen me move steadily from a 30 to a 36 inch waistline over the past quarter of a century (and thereby, from the top to the bottom of the piles of jeans in House of Fraser). Granted, when I began my current exercise regime, I was hopeful of achieving something more than attrition, but if I’ve learned anything over the past 45 years it’s that life is essentially a series of compromises.

I’ve never been entirely indolent and maintained reasonable levels of activity throughout my twenties and thirties thanks largely to enthusiastic participation in Sunday League football. But as I go older, and my own game got slower, the seasons evolved into longer and longer periods of injury, punctuated by the occasional match. I eventually packed the sport in at 43, due in part to a recurring calve muscle injury, but largely to the realisation that the only thing I was getting better at was arguing with the referees.

I looked for an alternative. I’ve never really been one for racket sports. Golf? Lee Westwood’s body shape is what I’ve got not what I’m after, and as for cricket, well Shane Warne’s never looked better since he gave it up.

‘Why not try swimming?’ Suggested my physician wife, going on to spell out its low impact benefits. So I did. Thereby wishing that I’d saved us both a lot of time in the first place by simply replying ‘Because it’s really, really boring!’

Of course the answer was in my wallet all along. It was my gym membership to the local branch of one of those large chains. Of course I never went, but now all that is about to change. Next week. For sure.

A feature originally published on Huffington Post.

iPhone5 – Not Rocket Science

A week on from the launch of the iPhone 5 – Apple’s most eagerly anticipated launch since… well, the iPhone 4 – and what have we learned?

Since the rumour mill began to grind in the spring, there has been an increasing sense of anticipation. The phone’s actual announcement was greeted initially with derision, due to the perceived lack of headline improvements. But the usual raft of ‘leaked’ photos and memos added grist and the reviews have been largely enthusiastic – ‘the best iPhone ever’ no less, is the consensus.

In the event, a bigger screen, panoramic camera, turn-by-turn navigation and some new maps have proved enough to shift five million units in the first weekend. Here in the UK, it was reported that 1200 people queued for almost a week to make sure they would be first (or at least, not twelve hundred and first) to get their hands on one.

So, how are these legions of early adopters feeling now they’ve spent some time with their shiny new phones? Are millions of lives being radically transformed by a revolutionary piece of technology? Perhaps owners are wondering how they’ve survived without a panoramic camera and a sixth row of apps (they can never go back to five). Maybe they are still excited at the contribution these unparalleled benefits could make towards a brighter future.

Or are lives pretty much unchanged; albeit with a slightly better phone than the one they had a few days ago and 500 quid lighter for the experience?

At the very least, those with an iPhone5 will be feeling better that the laggards holding on to their iPhone 4s. For those poor souls, today’s slight dissatisfaction with their current handset is sure to increase over the coming weeks and months. How many are wondering when they’ll be able to upgrade and are, even now, hopefully checking contracts and amending birthday or Christmas lists, we can but guess.

The success of the iPhone5 will not only boost the bottom line of Apple Inc. Early predictions that it could add up to 0.5 percent to U.S. GDP are proving to be a tad optimistic, but there’s not doubt that the iPhone 5 is still big – cosmically big – in economic terms. The company’s first major launch of the post-Jobs era may well establish Apple as the World’s Most Innovative BusinessTM (it’s currently languishing in fifth according to Forbes Magazine’s latest rankings).

And for me this is surely the most remarkable aspect of the story, because really, just how innovative is Apple?

Don’t get me wrong: the iPhone 5 is beautiful piece of kit, but when all said and done, it’s just a slightly better phone than the model it’s replacing. It’s not a cure for cancer, it’s not the key to nuclear fusion, and it won’t put an end to global warming.

We can also safely assume that Apple Inc is not about to task the research and development team with finding a replacement for oil, or indeed any of the clear and present challenges facing the survival of our species due to exponential population growth and the associated issues of food and energy security.

No, what’s almost certain is that they are already working on next year’s object of desire – a product tentatively named ‘iPhone 6’ – which we can expect will allow us to do pretty much everything we can with an iPhone 5, but in a slightly improved way.

Well done for shifting five million units Apple, but I can’t help thinking that, some 40 years ago, we were reserving this level of excitement for moon landings and supersonic jets.

If this really is innovation at its best, then perhaps we must accept that progress in the 21st Century will not be a matter of giant leaps for mankind, but of baby steps.

Whatever happened to the future? Weren’t we promised jetpacks?

A feature originally published on Huffington Post.

First Reviews

The first round of reviews are in:

‘Having spent several years working within the grubby wheels of the marketing machine at senior executive level, the author has especially telling insights into how advertising and marketing attempts to sway us from one product towards another, near identical one. Read this before you shell out for a new, ever-so slightly shinier mobile phone or pay a premium for anything that goes out of its way to convince you how ‘ethical’ it is.’ – Time Out, Book of the Week.

‘If stuff made us happy, we’d be the happiest people in history. Everything Now explains why we’re not.’ – David Hepworth, Word

‘A clear-eyed and very readable dissection of the bind we find ourselves in today.’ – The Crack

‘McKevitt’s brilliant and persuasive book highlights the gaping void in Western society, ironically created by its own success. All our needs are now met, leaving us to focus on our ever-changing, and ultimately unsatisfying, wants.’ – David Bolchover – Author of The 90 Minute Manager

‘If you’ve found yourself questioning why we have, need or want so much stuff, Steve McKevitt’s Everything Now gives us many credible, well-researched reasons as to why.’ – Dig Review

‘It has tapped into a growing vein that something somehow is not quite as it should be.’ – Sheffield Star