Take a look at this image and tell me if you think there’s anything grossly wrong with it:
Apart from the munging of the phone number (deliberate) and the — ahem — unfortunate resemblance to a recent superhero movie (tragic), is there anything that stands out to you as being troubling?
No?
That’s what I was thinking too when I made the ad. At the time I hadn’t been thinking of the Superman redux, so the image was come by more or less honestly — in fact when it was pointed out that the graphic was reminiscent of said film I almost decided to trash the whole damned thing and start over — but what I really wanted to convey was a sense of optimism and courage, two things cancer patients need in abundance.
I also wanted something clean and really punchy, since the ad would end up 25 feet wide and on a billboard. Thus powerful iconography and a simple, clear message were all part of the requirement. This particular ad is one of my favorites; I really, really like it.
Well, not everyone felt the same way. On one front there were internal complaints about it (there seemed to be a misunderstanding that we’re offering a cure for cancer, which we obviously are not and which the ad doesn’t even imply); but there were also complaints phoned in from the community. Evidently because some people do not survive cancer, the suggestion that others can and do is somehow offensive.
Now anyone who works in a PR or advertising capacity knows that creating an ad which results in public reaction is probably a good thing, even if all you hear is complaining. It means the ad is getting noticed. And of course the positive feedback we’ve received from cancer survivors and their families far outweighs the few complaints. This is an optimistic and empowering ad, and it beats the living shit out of the original concept brought to me.
But I wonder about the kind of mentality it requires to suggest that a cancer diagnosis automatically means a fatal prognosis. Those who object to the ad seem to be suggesting cancer = death, which just doesn’t wash for me. Of course I’ve never been diagnosed with cancer so I can’t really say what it’s like to face the illness, but I’m reasonably certain that, if I ever do end up with a malignant tumor, I’d much rather have a vision in mind of a superhero than, say, Ernest Hemingway.
(For the record, the original concept as presented to me was the slogan “Cancer sucks. Say it, fight it, cure it.” There’s no way you can attach a positive image to that slogan. Pictures of weeping children and sad-eyed puppies do not a good billboard make.)
9:23 on August 10th, 2007
[...] I’ve had problems before with adverse reactions to strong, simple images. Some of it is probably due to a general horror vacuui that many people seem to have; lots of negative space creates a tension that some would rather see filled. While that doesn’t bother me at all, I think there are some here at the hospital who are still getting used to the idea that powerful images will always bring about stronger responses, and not all of them will be positive. [...]
20:20 on August 24th, 2007
I came here from Pandagon.
I know you meant well, just like I agree with you on Unicef.
But sick people face a LOT of baggage with expectation that they MUST manage to be upbeat, cheery, and undefeatable. We are in fact, ALL expected to be the miracle patient who survives having 4 limbs removed, only to climb Mt. Everest after; or went scuba diving 2 weeks after a brain tumor was removed– because those are the stories the media feeds people.
PLUS, there’s a strong belief that has NOT stood up to all studies done on it, that attitude determines one’s chances of survival. So, if you feel sicker, it’s your own fault for not convincing yourself you are well!
I’ve got asthma, not cancer, but it all gets the same sort of psychological baggage attached. I had to take emergency meds and wear a paper mask to leave my house to go to the doctor’s office once, only to be told that “Some people with asthma play professional soccer.” As if the only thing *really* wrong with me was that I wasn’t trying hard enough. Well, I changed doctors after that. But these things stick in the mind.
20:29 on August 24th, 2007
You know what?
That makes sense.
Cancer is too often associated with Bad Life Choices. If you have cancer, it must be because you smoke. Or spend too much time in the sun. Or eat entire cows for breakfast, lunch and dinner.
Or smoke jerky cigars while reclining in the sun and avoiding salad.
These are good points. Thanks for posting them. We’re too ready to blame the victims, and that’s a serious problem.
You’ve just affected how I’ll do my next set of ads, regardless of the services we promote, and I appreciate that. Our mission statement — our slogan — is Serving Our Community with Compassion and Commitment, and you’ve just shown me a way to emphasize the compassion part of it more.
We’ve got a community quarterly publication due soon (circulation: the entire county, 20+K people in print but affecting ten times’ that amount in reality), and we’re so focused on talking about our services that we’ve been overlooking what it means to be chronically ill. That’s a significant topic. And I’m going to pitch it for the next content meeting. It might mean a revise on some articles, but I like the hell out of what you said. We can repurpose entire swaths of our ad placement based on that kind of true understanding, and that’s great. It’s just … great.
Your anonymous post, sent to a small blog in reference to an oblique issue, could well have a positive effect on the lives of hundreds, possibly thousands.
Thank you.
(For those not In The Know™, the Pandagon reference is to this post.)
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UPDATE: I posted a second note here that was directionless and vituperative, and have retracted it.
But one question remains: If we’re to confront the idea of hopelessness realistically, how do we do it without at the same time seeming defeatist?
22:33 on August 28th, 2007
I have an auto-immune disorder. My manifestation is, right now, mild.
It will never go away. It might decide to come back with a vengeance.
I might end up crippled, or marginally functional, and in a state of grinding pain.
Those are the facts. I hope that it never gets back to where it was when it manifested at its worst.
If it comes back that strong, hope has nothing to do with it. I will deal with it, and it will suck. If it does that, my life will be shorter, just the way it goes.
I think admitting that is perfectly fine. It’s painful, and it colors my thinking (even now, when this isn’t, presently, miserable, or even all that hard).
Is that acceptance of my condition defeatist? I don’t think so. Facing the facts, that some aspects of ones disease aren’t amenable to treatment (and that might prove fatal) is good. It makes it easier to deal with than having everyone tell you, when you know better) that things will improve.
As Samantha says, that sort of counterfactual can be depressing. It leads to defeatism (because people are lying to you, and one begins to wonder why; what is the lie hiding?).
The problem (I think) isn’t defeatism, so much as it is false hope.
That’s the things which really grinds at the psyche.
23:37 on August 31st, 2007
Thanks, pecunium.
You know, maybe I’m using the wrong word here. That’s frustrating to me as a writer. Maybe “defeatism” isn’t the right word — or maybe you and Samantha have taught me a different way of thinking.
Actually I think it’s the latter.
I said I’d discuss Samantha’s take on things in our next marketing-strategy meeting. I did, and by Amanda’s Disco Ball, her take wasn’t just accepted, but seen as a damned profound insight.
Everyone — and I mean everyone — involved visibly reacted to what I offered, based on her comments. I could see the ripple of change: Yes, that makes sense. Instead of insensate cheerfulness, why not actually discuss realistically the ways in which chronic illness can be terrible; and why not talk about how we can help from that point of view … even if “help” means listening, or simply holding hands for a while?
This isn’t whoring or exploitation. My hospital is imperfect, as is any human institution, but it is nonprofit, an institution committed to the community. This isn’t crass usury. I simply could not do or suggest anything that would be twisted into a way to trade human suffering for money or fame. (Gee! Look at how much we care! Now bring all your rich, insured patients here, and… No. We’re under law to be much more basic, much more feeling, much more human than crassly focused on profit and bottom line.)
So I was comfortable in bringing Samantha’s comments to the Powers That Be here.
I still don’t know what the effects will be, but they will be, and they will be meaningful.
I think I’ve been naive. I think I haven’t really understood what it’s like to be chronically affected, and I don’t think I’ve been very sensitive to people who have unique needs I’ve not yet experienced, but will eventually. Just like everyone else.
I don’t think there’s a single word to express, in English, the idea of guarded, realistic optimism balanced with the very cogent awareness of the possibility of long-term suffering and, possibly in some cases, death — as opposed to a mindless Pollyanna attitude that everything will, by dead bleeding Christ, be coming up roses, or else.
But I’m sure now that “defeatism” is not the term, and I’m grateful to you and Samantha for posting what you did. You taught me. Thank you.