What's in a face? A lot if it's the face of an anti-smoking campaign.
After the ad campaign began, it aroused much comment and feedback. Either you hate it or you are indifferent. (I don't think anyone can love that picture!)
Here's another point of view about the recent anti-smoking ad campaign ...
Time to face up to reality
In anti-smoking campaign's case, nothing gets message across better than that face
Wednesday • April 4, 2007, TODAY
Dr Ong Siow Heng
WHEN an artist or photographer creates a portrait, the background is usually not palpably elaborate. The portrait itself, however, invariably goes beyond the appearance of the person, suggesting intuitive information about the personality and social standing of the subject, as well as time and place.
The photographer Richard Avedon attributes this insight partly to the hand of the photographer and partly to the image projected by the subject. As a non-photographer who has never had the privilege of being the subject of a great photographer, I can attest to the fact that, to some extent, instinctive perception of the character, status and setting of the subject is also dependent on what the audience brings to the event of viewing the picture.
This is evidenced by the many opinions people have expressed about famous portraits such as Leonardo da Vinci's Mona Lisa and The Scream, by Norwegian artist Edvard Munch. Nobody can remain indifferent to The Scream (1893). People of any age, when shown a print of this painting, discern various meanings in it.
It is inevitable that we respond to paintings and depictions of the human face. It is, after all, the first thing one notices about another person. Even the face of a clown, in a non-threatening context, is often subtly fearsome to young children and some adults.
Psychologists have also noted that human beings have a tendency to anthropomorphise objects and creatures around them. We "discern" human qualities and ascribe human emotions to animals, and sometimes impute these traits to plants and events; we even distinguish the human face in objects. Apparently, the human brain is designed to project human characteristics on the world as an important survival skill.
All this brings me to the recent furore and multi-faceted debate over the Health Promotion Board (HPB) poster and 70-second television spot depicting the ravages of oropharyngeal cancer.
People say they object to the image because disgust and fear should not be used as motivation to change behaviour.
But if not fear, then to what emotion should appeal be made? Will organic moral suasion work? ("Don't smoke; as a member of society, keep the air clean for others.") Should a reward be offered for dropping the habit? ("Free chewing gum if you'd only toss the butt.")
Others say such distressing images may give children nightmares, so the HPB has said it will ensure billboards in the neighbourhood of childcare centres and primary schools will not be used; the television advertisement will only be aired after 8pm. This is strange when you consider the other pictures on billboards everywhere. It is even more surprising when you see the starkly diseased organs featured on posters at neighbourhood clinics and dental surgeries.
I think the most powerful impetus in the objections to the poster and the television advertisement is the depiction of the human face in all its vulnerability and suffering.
The message and the picture are evocative of the collapse of one's sheltered and safe universe; this is the very reason we want to turn away. The single face underlines the loneliness of suffering and the fearsomeness of ominous death. The poster is more frightening than the television message because it shows a silent open mouth, a soundless plea for mercy — for a divine cure, a humane acceptance.
It is impossible to substitute some other poster for this message. Would a celebrity's inspirational declaration of having kicked the habit be apposite when we know that giving up nicotine is harder than learning Mandarin, losing weight and volunteering at charitable institutions?
Edvard Munch said an awareness of an infinite scream in Nature and a feeling of chilling anxiety inspired his work. If such feelings gave rise to such a powerful and impactful series* of expressionist paintings, we can expect the shock, horror and pity aroused by this campaign to similarly inspire some of the audience to eschew tobacco and others to never light up. In fact, the HPB has been fielding more calls about quitting since the advent of the campaign.
As a tangential point, let us remember that squeamish flinching from medical realities is nothing to be proud of. It does not denote a heightened sensitivity so much as a naive self denial that the "eternal footman" awaits us all. Healthcare workers bear with such realities every day.
There is no rational reason to reject the campaign. If anything, our very cringing underscores the effectiveness of the images.
The long-term relevance of all this is how civic bodies should apply the lessons learnt for future public-education drives. Should the shock and horror card be played ad infinitum with a plague of other diseases such as STDs, cardiac conditions, bird flu and Sars? I do not think so.
In each case, a fresh configuration and innovative wisdom needs to be applied. The mood and sensibilities of every target audience must be assessed anew and an appropriate, if different, method used each time — regardless of the cries from conventional wisdom and political correctness, or boos from the sidelines. If objective instruments such as data fundamentals, market research and focus group studies show it is time to go with sentimentalism (as pro-family messages do) or guilt (as anti-drug messages do) or a sense of duty (as army recruitment messages do), that is the method to use. And if straight talking is called for, the HPB should go for it.
Really, as always, let the market decide.
*Note: Munch produced several versions of The Scream and also translated the picture into a lithograph so that the image could be reproduced all over the world.
The writer is an Associate Professor of Corporate Communication and Director of the Wee Kim Wee Centre at the Singapore Management University.
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