By
Wilfred Reilly
Tuesday,
April 25, 2023
I swore I’d
never write a column about Dylan Mulvaney.
However,
after noticing the recent
battle around my
third-favorite whiskey (Jack Daniel’s) being heavily advertised in my market by
drag queens, I can’t help seeing him as part of a broader phenomenon. Many
large American companies, especially the “manly” ones, currently seem almost
intent on alienating their primary consumer bases.
Obviously,
St. Louis’s Anheuser-Busch recently attracted global attention after making
Mulvaney — an adult male TikTok influencer, whose schtick is dressing and presenting as
a hormonal teenage girl — one of its top few dozen faces of the brand. Mulvaney
appeared on a tall boy Budweiser can, filmed a commercial short (albeit on
social media) drinking a beer in a sudsy tub, and so on. The reaction was
fairly predictable: Conservative gadfly Matt Walsh announced a national boycott
of Bud, legendary rap-rocker Kid Rock filmed himself shooting up a
few cases of
Anheuser piss-water with an AR-15, and country singers began changing the
lyrics of party songs referencing
“cold Bud and Bud Light” at concerts.
Fair
enough, I suppose, re: the wind and the whirlwind. But the oddest thing about
all of this is that five minutes of research shows the Anheuser-Busch situation
not to be a unique or even unusual example of extreme “social justice”
marketing. As noted above, Jack Daniel’s recently filmed an entire series of
video-length, movie-quality promotional ads for Tennessee corn whiskey using
the most flamboyant drag queens from RuPaul’s Drag Race. The
National Basketball Association (NBA) only recently abandoned its George
Floyd–era practice of literally painting “Black Lives Matter” on the hoops
court and letting players wear explicitly political messages on game
jerseys — making it possible to see “Racial Justice” just level “Equity”
during a hard drive to the basket.
Over in
football, the NFL did very much the same sort of thing, and apparently has
never enforced an
already tepid policy against players kneeling in protest, out on the field,
during the national anthem. Nike — which equips both leagues, and whose
legendary spokesman Michael Jordan once famously reminded a left-slanting
reporter that “Republicans buy sneakers too” — has behaved similarly in recent
years. The shoe giant not only gave a nine-figure-deal to most-famous kneeler Colin
Kaepernick (is his signature sneaker designed for riding the bench? Marching in
protest?) but also hired the
unmistakably male Mulvaney to model women’s sportswear, such as sports bras.
Finally, in perhaps the most notable example of a purely socially or
politically driven decision by a business, Dick’s Sporting Goods opted in
2018 to stop
selling almost all guns — despite the fact that there “was no upside in our economic
analysis.”
The
results of almost all these logically bizarre decisions were . . . pretty much
what one would expect. In 2020, one debatably scientific but very large-n poll,
which made it into the Daily
Caller, found
that nearly 90 percent of football fans would be less likely to watch an NFL
where players visibly knelt before games. And, in fact, television ratings for
the football league did drop more
than 10 percent during
the kneeling era (although the NFL has tried frantically to blame this on any
other imaginable cause).
The NBA
has faced similar if smaller-scale issues, with even famous coach Phil Jackson
— of my old Chicago Bulls — recently saying that he no longer watches many
games because they are too annoyingly
“political.” More
empirically, Dick’s move flatly lost millions: In the first year after having
given up firearms sales, the company lost $250,000,000 in revenue. And Bud? She
lost billions — with a “b” — at least temporarily. Although causal proof here
is difficult, plunges in the overall Anheuser-Busch stock price in the initial
stretch of the beer boycott translated to a loss-against-cap of $5–6 billion in
real money.
So, now,
we get to a very obvious question: Why were these decisions ever made in the
first place? While on the center-right politically, I am not particularly
prudish or naïve, and I have no real problem with drag queens in gay bars or
noisy civil-rights protesters on the campus of Wellesley. But even Stevie
Wonder could see that these are not the best marketers for selling corn liquor
to working people. How could anyone with a triple-digit IQ make such a long and
consistently insane series of calls?
As is so
often the case, the great Thomas Sowell provides a murky path with some
illumination. In an entertaining and now-classic book, The Vision
of the Anointed,
Sowell makes the point that many members of the Western ruling class —
including professors, media figures, politicians, and senior business
executives — no longer like or understand the people that they are expected to
lead. Almost universally, such would-be lairds are upper-middle or upper class
in background, from the two coasts or at least one of the megacities around the
Great Lakes, educated at elite Ivy-on-down universities, and well-versed in
trendy social theory (“My preferred pronouns are . . .”).
Sowell
claims, using a great deal of empirical data, that these folx tend to think of
other Americans not as peers and countrymen so much as “the benighted” — and
other more modern synonyms come easily to mind: “deplorables,” “bitter
clingers” from “flyover land.” In Anointed/Benighted discourse, the goal of the
Anointed isn’t an honest exchange of views so much as teaching the Benighted
what the new truth is: changing and broadening their provincial little minds.
It’s hard not to see a great deal of this dynamic specifically in the Dylan
Mulvaney case — the executive responsible for that hire was the first female
SVP ever to run the Bud Light brand, and she brutally condemned it as “fratty”
and in need of some seasoning in a now-viral podcast interview.
So, how
should regular citizens interact with brands that seem to hate or despise them?
A short answer might be: Don’t, at least long enough for C-level executives to
recognize that you notice what’s going on. After the stock-price plunge of
Anheuser-Busch, the Mulvaney advertising campaign was withdrawn, and the VP
responsible for it was placed on what one suspects will be a lengthy leave
of absence. That took two weeks.
Even for
the longer term, should you care this much about the politics of consumer
goods, there are plenty of alternative versions of pretty much every product
(the NFL might admittedly be an exception) in a capitalist marketplace such as
America’s. Some are conservative: The Daily Wire created the
now-booming Jeremy’s Razors brand in response to the
surprising “wokeness” of companies such as Harry’s Razors and even Gillette —
the latter of which recently ran an ad depicting a father teaching his biological daughter how to shave a
beard. Others
aren’t political at all: There are plenty of brewmasters in Mexico and Germany
and dirty hipster warehouses in your own city that really just want to sell
beer. All are out there. Take advantage!
That
said, here’s one final note for the businesspeople who may be reading this
(some perhaps even working at Anheuser): If you really want to
make some money, put Riley Gaines on a beer can.
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