Volume 114: Climate Tech Needs to Find its Awesome.

1. Climate Tech Needs to Find its Awesome.

Tl:dr: Inertia is the toughest competitor. “Education” won’t work

Last week I stumbled upon this Bloomberg article describing the challenge of getting Americans to choose electric vehicles. Specifically, the disconnect between people’s range expectations and actual car usage. Put simply, 300 miles is the magic number for range, but 95% of the time, we aren’t going further than 30.

What’s interesting is the inherent conceit in the article that we’re “entering the education phase of electrification” and that through little more than telling people how they really use their cars, expectations will magically change, and adoption will surge—reinforced mightily in the social media comments, where people roundly bemoan the idiocy/selfishness of the consumer.

Based on many years of experience, I can safely say this is more than a little naive. It’s rare in the extreme that telling people off under the guise of “education” makes much, if any, dent in behavior. The truth is that we don’t live in a rational and objective world. We live in an irrational and emotional one. So instead of a lecture, what we need is for climate tech to find its inner awesome.

Everything is relative. Three hundred miles of range already represents a compromise in the minds of many consumers. Heck, my beat-up old Ford Explorer tells me it’ll do almost 350 miles on a single fill.

This begs a strategic question of what has to be true for people to accept a lower-range electric vehicle. Here are some thoughts:

1. A really cheap EV will be awesome.
   A lower-range car needs to be considerably cheaper than a higher-range one because a lower-range/smaller battery psychologically represents a lesser value proposition than a higher-range/larger battery. In a similar way that horsepower in a gasoline car represented the value path, battery capacity seems to be the same in electric (for now).

2. Ubiquitous charging will be awesome.
   A huge reason we think we need so much range has nothing to do with the car itself and everything to do with a (perhaps irrational) fear of being stuck in the middle of nowhere without a charger. In other words, range anxiety is directly connected to the charging infrastructure or lack of it. Until we see highly visible and ubiquitous public charging, range anxiety isn’t going away.

3. Super fast charging will be awesome
   With very few exceptions (anything made by Hyundai, Kia, or Genesis, cough, cough), electric cars are slow to change, which is a particular problem in a lower-range vehicle that needs to be charged more often. However, the problem goes away when charging speeds can be dropped significantly.

4. New battery chemistries will be awesome
   OK, this is a trick bullet point, but range anxiety goes away the moment new battery chemistries change the cost equation. If manufacturers had batteries that were half the price for twice the range, they’d use it. Six hundred miles of range is a compelling proposition if your competition only offers 300 for the same price.

5. Making it fun and cool will be awesome
   This might sound a little pat as an answer, but another way to make a low-range car attractive is to deliberately set out to make it the funnest, coolest car out there. And to get over the whole charging thing by creating an experience where charging this car is so entertaining that it’s something you can’t wait to go do. It might sound weird, but it wouldn’t be the first time a compromise was turned into a differentiator.

Here’s the most important thing. As any marketer knows, inertia is the most formidable competitor.

In relative terms, it’s much easier to persuade a consumer to switch from one brand of product to another than to have them adopt a new category of product in the first place - especially if that new product is perceived to be lesser in some way. That’s why things like Tesla, Uber, and the iPhone had first to demonstrate something new and awesome that hadn’t been seen before. Something to drive the irrational desire of the heart rather than the logical demands of the head.

This is why the emerging field of climate tech so desperately needs to embrace a consumerized mindset. It faces a huge uphill battle against inertia, not just for acceptance but for desire. It isn’t enough to say EVs are better for the planet - you need to demonstrate how it’s a better, cooler, more futuristic car (The instant torque from an electric motor, for example, is a showstopper compared to an internal combustion engine in the acceleration stakes, which is why “Ludicrous Mode” from Tesla is a branding masterclass).

Of course, this isn’t solely limited to EVs. We also need to think emotionally about why a heat pump can be superior to other forms of home heating and cooling. Or why solar and battery backup is better than a home generator. (Hint…silence) Or why eating kelp is better than eating a steak (good luck with that one, but I’m fascinated by how we get people to embrace new foodstuffs as climate change begins to dictate the foods our calories will come from).

This is the real battle line that’s coming. Not to lecture people on why they should accept compromises they’re unwilling to make because it’s better for the planet. Down that path lies nothing but niche status, no matter how much you or I may wish it to be true.

No, for the kind of mass, society-wide adoption the planet needs (when I say planet, I really mean us. We’re not killing the planet, we’re killing ourselves. The planet will still be here long after human beings have roasted themselves into oblivion), we’re going to need better, more awesome products attached to cooler brands.

We need to get to a situation where we’re not making psychological compromises for the earth’s sake but where we feel exhilarated that we’ve got something newer and better and more awesome and, oh, bonus…it just happens to be better for the planet/humanity. 

2. Find Your Edges.

tl;dr: Hopefully, adding clarity to the specialist/generalist debate.

At last week’s Brand New Conference, I made a passing reference to “things and the edges of things” and figured it was worth doing a follow-up for two reasons. First, I think it’s a great construct through which we can look at ourselves, especially those near the beginning of their careers. And second, I think it might help bring additional clarity to the increasingly tired generalists versus specialists debate that’s been ongoing in marketing land for seemingly…forever.

Many years ago, while undertaking an MBA at Lancaster University, I met Prof. Vudayagi Balasubramanyam (“Baloo”), an economics professor. Aside from being gracious–and patient–enough to teach basic economics to the economically illiterate, Baloo was also singularly open. Delighted to spend time with students in his office, at lunch, or simply in the corridor between classes. Something I loved because he was such a fount of knowledge and insight.

During one such spontaneous conversation, I remember him talking to a few folks who’d come to the MBA from very different backgrounds. One an engineer, another a lawyer, another from a non-profit. I think they were feeling a bit of imposter syndrome, which he overcame with his observation that there are things and edges of things and that interesting stuff always happens at the edge. Here’s how I interpret this.

First, we all have some area of core skills, competence, domain expertise, or whatever we want to call it. This is your thing. Many other people are likely similarly experienced and educated in that same thing. You can forge a decent career headed directly down the middle of your thing, but going straight down the middle isn’t very interesting. What’s interesting is that as you move out from the middle, you start to encounter edges that intersect with other things. So, for my MBA peers, Baloo was pointing out that being a lawyer is fine, and being a business school graduate is fine, but something much more interesting likely exists at the edge of law and business.

Branding is my thing, and I have two distinct edges I’ve developed. The first is business strategy. So, while I’d never describe myself as a management consultant, I can connect the worlds of branding and business strategy in a way that others can’t. My other edge is design. Again, while I’d never describe myself as a designer, I’m well enough versed to connect the dots, so I can make connections from business strategy to design via branding and brand strategy. My core “thing” of branding is fine, but many people can do that. What makes me interesting happens when you want to connect business strategy, branding, and design into something more than it might be otherwise, especially for those companies undergoing some form of transformation. And I’ve realized over the years that I’m pretty good at this in a way that others aren’t, with an ability to be the universal translator between the three. Now, my being better at this than others isn’t because I’m inherently smarter or more experienced or such, but because I’ve chosen to develop edges that others have not.

I also understand edges that I don’t have. For example, I don’t have an edge in contemporary culture; I don’t have my finger on the pulse of what it takes to be cool in the moment. And while I appreciate people who do, it isn’t for me. So, why describe an edge that I don’t have? Well, just to observe that if you find yourself needing an edge you don’t have, it starts to dictate what a team might look like. For as many edges as we may cultivate for ourselves as individuals, teams allow us to have more. And the more edges we have, the more interesting we collectively become.

This is one of the reasons I find groupthink so frustrating. Put a bunch of people in a room who go straight down the middle of the same thing, and they’ll all come up with the same ideas, usually tired ones. What a waste when we could have had a vastly more interesting conversation by including people with an array of weird and wonderful edges instead.

I have two edges, and I’m trying to develop a third in climate tech (or whatever this ultimately gets called). I want to develop this edge for two reasons. First, the most valuable thing we can apply our image-making talents to is the mass consumerization and adoption of new technologies, behaviors, and products that help mitigate the impact of climate change. Second, I believe investment growth in this economic sector will likely make it a vibrant and lucrative place to play. (Like many of you, I, too, have a mortgage to pay for).

So, why mention this relative to people at the beginning of their careers? Right now, you’re probably still grappling with how to both find your thing and become an expert in it. That’s good. You should pursue this. But, the more open you are to finding your edges, the more interesting your career is likely to be. And with the speed at which change happens, your edges are likely to be the things that help you stand out as you navigate a world where an unprecedented array of job titles have yet to be invented.

Here’s an example. After the conference, I met a young copywriter. As we chatted, I suggested she learn more about screenwriting because it might represent an interesting edge. Screenwriters write backstories for their characters, deal in narrative arcs, and want to understand how a character will react to a given situation. For example, will the character be rational or emotional, happy or sad, lonely and introspective, or bubbly and exuberant? I don’t know where this exploration might ultimately take a copywriter, but there’s a clear overlap between screenwriting techniques and brand voice, which means your ability to write good copy will likely be enhanced by exploring the edges of other forms of writing, like screenwriting.

I could finish with a cliche of your gaining an edge by finding your edges, but I won’t. Instead, I’d encourage you to have the curiosity to explore the edges of your field of expertise, embrace others who have interesting edges of their own, and use this to seek more interesting directions than straight down the middle.

3. More Than One Thing Can Be True at the Same Time.

tl;dr: Sigh. Why does modern dialog always have to be binary?

Most people don’t pay attention to internecine warfare in the landscape of marketing ideas. I wish I didn’t feel like I had to. It’s like having teeth pulled with a blunt spoon and no anesthesia watching smart people castigate each other for having different ideas about things they tend to broadly agree on.

It’s become so bad that Mark Ritson has seen fit to name this phenomenon “bothism.” It’s a daft term for a daft situation that we shouldn’t have to find ourselves in. It shouldn’t be so hard for us, as smart, intelligent adults, to accept that two things can be true at the same time and that more than one thing can matter at the same time. Unfortunately, we live in a moment in history where algorithms amplify outrage and disagreement while simultaneously deprecating quiet head nods. So outrage and disagreement are exactly what we provide the algorithmic gods as we seek our daily, weekly, or monthly fix of likes, comments, and re-shares. (Frankly, I’m as guilty of this as the next person). It’s a little sad when you realize your public persona has been shaped by an attention algorithm, like a hamster learning that it’ll get cheese if it runs on its wheel.

Anyway, while marketing academics are busy hammering each other, Mr. Ritson has pointed out the blindingly obvious. You’re both right, and you’re both wrong, and so now it’s up to everyone else to figure out what that means.

To summarize for those whose eyes have glazed over, the battle lines are as follows. One side says differentiation matters a lot; the other says it doesn’t matter at all. The reality is likely somewhere in the middle. One side says salience matters a lot, and the other that it doesn’t matter so much. The reality is likely somewhere in the middle. One side says distinctiveness matters a lot. The other reckons it isn’t such big a deal. The reality, guess what is likely somewhere in the middle.

It really shouldn’t be this hard. And on this issue, I’m with Mr. Ritson. I just wish this nonsense wasn’t so prevalent he felt the need to name it.