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2020: The Year That Was (Terrible)

2020: The Year That Was (Terrible)

Fig. 1: 2020

Have you ever known someone who was just THE WORST — selfish, narcissistic, caustic, downright cruel just for fun — and then you meet their younger sibling, and they’re even worse? They’ve spent their life idolizing their older sibling, striving to be just like them, taking that THE WORST and building it into something wholly destructive?

Welcome to 2021.

Unfortunately, the turn of a calendar page is just a construct, and as much as we all loved to talk about looking forward to the end of 2020 and welcoming the coming of 2021, that was never going to be a real game changer. The hardships — and the hope — of 2020 were never going to halt and about-face at the stroke of midnight on December 31.

That means that even though the lousiness of 2020 remains with us in 2021, we also can look back at the lessons we learned in 2020 to help us along the way. Here are a few of my 2020 takeaways, from both an advertising and a God-help-us-in-the-real-world perspective.

1. Unfathomable loss is hard to fathom.

I hate to go straight in with the unspeakable tragedy, but the fact is, unspeakable tragedy has underlaid most of the past year. And it’s done so to an extent that, as horrible as it sounds, it’s become easy for many people to ignore. Early on, as the pandemic was new, the growing number of deaths was emotionally overwhelming, which influenced popular response to public health measures. But as deaths grew into the hundreds of thousands, they became impossible to fathom.

They shifted from human lives to just another piece of a huge tragedy, and a huge tragedy is hard for many people to engage with emotionally. Like a “Save the Children” ad full of sad-eyed kids, the devastation in our country became ignorable. The crucial need to act became ignorable, too. The individual deaths, the deaths of individuals, became just another sad-eyed kid.

From a communications standpoint — not just in our industry but in the context of public-health messaging — what does this mean? Hell if I know. Certainly part of it means that trying to deliver messages in a frame of teamwork, of helping others, of sacrificing now so we can all be together later, tragically isn’t working anymore. The people who are willing to make sacrifices now for the good of the community are already doing what we’re asking them to do, and the people who are resistant have shown they aren’t responsive to that messaging. So we have to innovate. We have to give them something that catches their attention. What will that look like? Hell if I Know 2: Son of Hell if I Know. But we have to.

That said, it’s not a sure thing that resistant people won’t respond to community-centric, humanity-driven appeals. If we work hard enough, and smart enough, we may be able to find a solution, because…

2. People will surprise you.

I was actually pleasantly surprised from time to time early in 2020. People who responded to the stress and isolation of COVID lockdowns with compassion. People you wouldn’t think would obey stay-at-home requirements but actually did. People who celebrated our first responders and made an effort to help in any way they could. And yes, then much of it collapsed, but just for a little bit, it was there.

And during the summer, as people protested against police brutality, the sheer volume of humanity marching together was a pleasant surprise. People you wouldn’t expect to be a font of unity were joining in. And it went on and on, even in the face of dangerous opposition. And yes, a lot of people behaved exactly as you’d expect (in the sense of being awful), and that dangerous opposition was seriously dangerous. But people were there. People who had no understanding of systemic racism made an effort to learn. Books on the subject sold out on Amazon. Keeping that energy up, particularly in the face of pandemic and political upheaval, is a challenge, but the foundation is there to a surprising extent. And that foundation needs to remain firm, because…

3. Sincerity matters. So does choosing a position.

From an advertising perspective (since this is an advertising blog), where brands are concerned, the pressure to post supportive content — or at least content that acknowledged the issues at hand — amid the Black Lives Matter protests was an indication that, at least in some vocal and influential segments, brands were increasingly expected to have a connection to the market on which they made their money. The same pressure was on politicians and other public figures. And many responded.

Said market, however, was also quick to call out brands and individuals who were clearly posting to satisfy that demand and not because they actually cared. Receipts rained like a ticker-tape parade. The message was clear: If all you care about is our money, we’re happy to take our money elsewhere.

That triggered a lot of discussion about such a demand. Why can’t a brand stay apolitical? Is this cancel culture (“cancel culture”)? What does a shoe brand have to do with social justice? Why can’t brand-consumer relationships remain purely transactional? Pretty much everyone in our industry has their own opinion — I’m sure you can guess what mine is — but regardless of opinions, the reality is that brands are expected to do more than just provide products. They’re expected to clearly, sincerely care about consumers as well. And right now, between (as noted above) ongoing social justice issues, the evermore raging pandemic, and political upheaval, those consumers are going through a lot.

And as brands begin/continue their foray into community concern and social justice, they should be prepared to experience some pushback, because…

4. No plan survives enemy contact.

Also known as “Man plans, God laughs.” This isn’t anything unique to 2020, of course, or anything we haven’t encountered before. But this year has been a good reminder. It’s not just essential to construct strategic plans in times of crisis — it’s irresponsible not to. But it’s also essential to have backup plans to your plans, and backups for those, because even the best-made ones oft gang pretty damned agley.

Think your COVID guidelines and restrictions will help keep the virus in line? Sure, Jan. There definitely won’t be a literal kidnapping attempt on a governor in response to those guidelines and restrictions. Think clear evidence and numerous court cases will convince the populace that the election wasn’t actually “stolen”? Right. Flames won’t be intentionally fanned by people in positions of power until the chaos blows past the Bush-Gore conflict at highway speed and charges all the way to attempts at violent insurrection. Think your fast-tracked scientific marvel of a COVID vaccine will help get the pandemic under control so we can go into the new year with positive momentum? That’s just adorable.

Whether it’s a social media strategy waylaid by national news that renders scheduled posts inappropriate or a vaccine rollout strategy hamstrung by the fact that apparently, no one knows how to roll out a vaccine, there is no other option than to remain on your toes.

Because…

5. People will surprise you (redux).

The pleasant surprises weren’t the only ones we encountered in 2020. (Could we reasonably expect they would be?) I found myself surprised by the extent to which theoretically human people could be so selfish in their response to growing needs for pandemic safety. I was surprised by the number of people who became straight-up violently defiant about it all, the number willing to resort to actual physical violence triggered merely by the presence of a mask. Yes, there would always be some. I didn’t know how many that some would be.

I was surprised about the number of otherwise intelligent people who were so ready to accept bizarre conspiracy theories about the “stealing” of the election. Thus I was surprised-not-surprised when that line of thought erupted into violence in 2021, with some people doing truly, nauseatingly unspeakable things you might otherwise have thought would be beyond them. I did not like that surprise-not-surprise.

But that’s the point of looking back on the past year and deriving lessons to help us through this year: to at least be surprised-not-surprised, instead of full-on surprised. To be able to prepare and, hopefully, make 2021 better than it might otherwise be.

Welcome, 2021.

Alternately, the more accurate choice would be not so much “welcome” as BRING IT, because 2021 is here whether we welcome it or not. But at least 2020 has prepared us, to the extent that one can be prepared for whatever is coming in future months, with knowledge and tools to help us along the way.

And armed with those tools, dedicated people can make a difference. We can make a difference. We can stand toe to toe with 2020’s asshole younger sibling and tell it to take a seat. We might not know how it’s going to go on, but at least we know how to start.

2021, BRING IT.

(Note: Please don’t bring it.)

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