A Marketing Crisis

In every industry, there's a hidden force that gradually chips away at clear thinking. It's subtle, seemingly professional, and entirely respectable. Yet it might be one of the biggest barriers to genuine innovation and problem-solving in modern business.

I was reminded of this while reading John Lanchester's fascinating New Yorker article 'Money Talks.' What caught my attention wasn't just his analysis of financial language, but how perfectly it captured a phenomenon I've witnessed throughout my career in marketing.

The process is deceptively simple: First, we create metaphors to help explain complex ideas. These metaphors then transform into technical terminology. Finally, that terminology calcifies into unquestioned fact. And just like that, we've locked ourselves into a way of thinking that we no longer examine.

Let's look at how this process unfolds in real life. Take the term 'hedge fund' - a phrase so common in financial circles that we rarely stop to consider its origins.

Initially, it described something remarkably straightforward: a way to protect your investments by betting in multiple directions, much like planting a hedge around your garden to shield it from harsh winds. You were quite literally 'hedging your bets.'

This simple metaphor spawned an entire industry. Firms branded themselves as hedge funds, promising to protect their clients' wealth through diversified investment strategies. It was a compelling story that made perfect sense.

But as competition intensified, something interesting happened. The focus shifted from protection to profit. These funds began pursuing increasingly exotic and risky investments - a far cry from their protective roots. The numbers tell a sobering story: between 2010 and 2012, over 2,500 hedge funds collapsed. The 'hedge' that was supposed to protect investments had quietly disappeared, but the terminology lived on, unchallenged.

The irony? Many investors still associate hedge funds with safety, simply because the word 'hedge' is there. The metaphor has become misleading mythology.

This linguistic sleight of hand isn't unique to finance. In fact, it might be even more prevalent in marketing, where we've developed our own sophisticated vocabulary that often obscures more than it reveals.

Think about how we discuss our work in meetings. We don't just talk about understanding customers anymore - we conduct 'brand audits' and analyze 'cluster groups.' We don't simply reach people - we achieve 'penetration' through 'integrated solutions.' Each term sounds impressively technical, lending an air of scientific precision to our work.

But here's the thing: just as 'security' in finance no longer means making something safe (ironically, it now means turning something into a tradeable asset), many of our marketing terms have drifted far from their original meaning. 'Native advertising' isn't particularly native to anything. 'Deep dive' rarely involves any real depth. And 'storytelling' - well, when was the last time you heard an actual story in a marketing meeting?

The problem isn't the existence of technical terms - every profession needs them. The problem is that we've stopped questioning what these words actually mean in practice. We nod along in meetings, contribute to 'ideation sessions,' discuss 'hygiene factors,' and debate 'psychographics' - all while potentially losing sight of the fundamental question: are we actually connecting with real people in meaningful ways?

What makes this pattern particularly troubling is how it affects the next generation of marketing professionals. I've noticed something fascinating in my interactions with young marketers: they often enter the field already fluent in our specialized vocabulary, but sometimes struggle to explain these concepts in simple terms.

It's not their fault. We've created an environment where learning the terminology has become a substitute for understanding the underlying principles. It's easier to say 'we need to leverage our core competencies for better ROI' than to clearly explain how we plan to make more money by doing what we're good at.

This reminds me of a conversation I had with a CMO recently. He shared how his team had spent three months working on a 'customer journey optimization initiative' before someone finally asked, 'Are we just trying to make it easier for people to buy our product?' The room fell silent. They had been so caught up in the complexity of their approach that they'd lost sight of their simple, fundamental goal.

The cost of this linguistic fog isn't just clarity - it's creativity. When we accept terminology without questioning it, we inherit all the assumptions and limitations buried within those words. Every time we default to industry jargon, we're potentially closing the door on fresh thinking.

This creeping terminology has become so normalized that we barely notice it anymore. Walk into any marketing meeting today and you'll hear a steady stream of vocabulary that would baffle most outsiders: KPIs, UGC, CRM, SEO, ideation, psychographics, deep dives, deliverables. The list grows longer every year.

But here's the crucial question: when was the last time we stopped to question what any of this really means? Not just the dictionary definition, but the actual substance behind these words?

Just like those ill-fated hedge funds that strayed from their protective purpose, our marketing terminology has drifted far from its original intent. 'Content' has become something we produce by the metric ton, rather than ideas worth sharing. 'Storytelling' rarely involves actual stories. 'Value-added' seldom describes anything that customers genuinely value.

We've fallen into the same trap that Lanchester identified in the financial world: we're learning terms without understanding concepts. We're memorizing a professional vocabulary without questioning whether it actually helps us think more clearly about our challenges.

The real danger isn't that we use these terms - it's that we let them do our thinking for us. Every time we default to jargon instead of clear language, we're not just obscuring our meaning; we're limiting our ability to think creatively about the problems we're trying to solve.

Perhaps it's time we returned to the fundamental purpose of marketing: understanding people and figuring out how to serve them better. Everything else - all our sophisticated terminology and complex frameworks - should serve that goal, not replace it.

Perhaps it's time we returned to the fundamental purpose of marketing: understanding people and figuring out how to serve them better. Everything else - all our sophisticated terminology and complex frameworks - should serve that goal, not replace it.

The tragedy isn't that we use jargon.

The tragedy is that jargon uses us.

Every marketing term we blindly accept is a decision we've stopped making. Every buzzword we adopt without questioning is a thought we've decided not to think.

The cost?

We stop seeing people as people.

We start seeing them as metrics instead.

Moreover, the next generation of marketers isn't learning our terminology.

They're inheriting our mental barriers.

And that might be the most expensive cost of all.