BrandKnew September 2013 October 2013 | Page 20

How GE Branded My Unborn Baby Mark Wilson A TINY LOGO HIDDEN ON ULTRASOUNDS COULD BE COAXING NEW PARENTS TO BUY GE’S FLEET OF HOME APPLIANCES. 238,900 miles from Earth, I see my unborn child for the first time. My view is a grainy black-and-white image on a 10-inch screen, unremarkable and indistinguishable in every way, save for the tiniest of bubbles. It’s the great unknown. It’s my moon. I never cared about an ultrasound before my wife’s, before that grainy black-and-white image was our crystallizing future, before the radioscopic pulse of the diagnostic sound waves transitioned seamlessly into a heartbeat. The cadence was impossibly confident for an entity so small and distant. It was the sound of life itself. It wasn’t until hours later, staring at a snapshot in a trance, that I realized how intensely we’d been manipulated by a higher power. Because right beside the fetus were two letters that glowed like a star against the black background: GE. My child was but a bundle of organized cells just a few weeks in development, yet he or she had already been enlisted as a soldier in the $4.6 billion ultrasound market war. My baby had been branded before birth, and I’d never look at GE’s microwaves, light bulbs, and wind turbines the same way again. THE POWER OF UNCONSCIOUS BRANDING A few weeks later, I hop on the phone with Douglas Van Praet, Fast Company contributor and author of the book Unconscious Branding, which explores how advertisers use powerful psychology to pull a consumer’s strings at the limbic level. And I ask Van Praet what he thinks about corporate logos finding their way on ultrasounds beside developing children. “It’s primal branding at its best,” Van Praet concedes as he flips through a folder of ultrasound shots I’d sent him, one after another, brand after brand, that each mark embryos with a GE, Philips, or Siemens logo. “You’ll never, ever feel a connection more deeply to anyone than your child.” On my end, I experience a sort of Pavlovian association, he explains. In a moment of awe, GE peeks its face into the frame. And as I look at this image more, every time rekindling a moment of joyous discovery, GE can gently associate itself with positivity. Now that’s not just a bunch of Freudian philosophy about the nature of consciousness. This powerful brand association has actually been proven in labs. Researchers at University of Toronto have shown test subjects fictional brands, each associated with positive and negative imagery. By the end of the test, subjects couldn’t consciously remember any of the good/bad associations, but when asked how they felt about those fictional brands, the imagery had left a strongly correlative aftertaste in their mouths--an “I like it, but I don’t know why’ effect” and the exact opposite. We call this aftertaste “intuition.” “It’s certainly conceivable that you’d pick up the GE brand on the unconscious level because it’s so subtle,” Van Praet explains. And in GE’s case, the brand is leveraging a particularly powerful trigger--my child--whose importance sinks all the way down to the deepest parts of my brain and my basest instinct to reproduce. (It’s the same reason Michelin ads feature babies sitting in tires.) It’s an all-around branding coup. But there are still rules of engagement when deploying these sly branding maneuvers. IT’S PRIMAL BRANDING AT ITS BEST.