Buyology - Martin Lindstrom [30]
The experiment touched a nerve in an American public already jumpy from cold war paranoia and inflamed by the publication of Vance Packard’s book The Hidden Persuaders, which exposed the psychologically manipulative methods marketers were bringing to advertising. Consumers were convinced that the government could use the same kinds of under-the-radar techniques to peddle propaganda, that the Communists could use them to recruit supporters, or that cults could use them to brainwash members. As a result, American television networks and the National Association of Broadcasters banned subliminal ads in June of 1958.
In 1962, Dr. Henry Link, the president of the Psychological Corporation, challenged Vicary to repeat his Coke-and-popcorn test. Yet this time the experiment yielded no jump whatsoever in either Coke or popcorn sales. In an interview with Advertising Age, Vicary came out and somewhat puzzlingly admitted that his experiment was a gimmick—he’d made the whole thing up. The mechanical slide projector, the surge in popcorn and Coca-Cola sales—none of it was true. Despite Vicary’s confession, the damage was done, and a belief in the power of subliminal messaging had been firmly planted in the American public’s mind.
Shortly thereafter, the American Psychological Association pronounced subliminal advertising “confused, ambiguous and not as effective as traditional advertising,” and the issue—and the ban—appeared to be laid to rest.1 Predictably, consumer paranoia about the topic drifted away, just as it would time and again over the next half-century as consumers and advocacy groups occasionally petitioned for stricter laws, only to have governmental agencies fail to pass any outright federal legislation.
But then, some fifteen years after Vicary’s faux-experiment, Dr. Wilson B. Key published his book Subliminal Seduction with a cover photograph picturing a cocktail with a lemon wedge in it, accompanied by the irresistible teaser, Are you being sexually aroused by this picture? Soon, a new wave of paranoia burbled through the country. This time around, the FCC announced in January 1974 that subliminal techniques in advertising, whether they worked or not, were “contrary to the public interest,” and therefore, any station using them was in danger of losing its broadcast license.2
Still, today, there are no explicit bans against subliminal advertising in the United States or the United Kingdom, though the Federal Trade Commission has taken the official position that a subliminal ad “that causes consumers to unconsciously select certain goods or services, or to alter their normal behavior, might constitute a deceptive or unfair practice.”3 The emphasis here is on might—to this day, no official regulations or guidelines as to what constitutes subliminal advertising exist.
Generally speaking, subliminal messages are defined as visual, auditory, or any other sensory messages that register just below our level of conscious perception and can be detected only by the subconscious mind. But despite the hype and worry that have surrounded subliminal advertising over the past half century, the topic tends to be treated with good-natured eye-rolling. Who do they think they’re fooling? is how most of us react whenever a story about subliminal advertising shows up on the news, whether it’s a report of a McDonald’s logo flashing for 1/30 of a second during the Food Channel’s Iron Chef America program (a spokesperson for the Food Channel claimed it was a technical error), or an unfounded rumor that a cloud of dust in Disney’s The Lion King spells out “s-e-x.”
Still, accusations of subliminal messages do crop up from time to time, especially in the movies. In 1973, during a showing of The Exorcist, one petrified moviegoer fainted and broke his jaw on