Has Product Placement Made Our Television Viewing Experience Worse?

It's not news that, in a world of Tivo and Youtube, remote control and cable radio, the traditional commercial is something passe. As standard ads shrink from 30-second slots to 10-second reminders, TV cameras increasingly linger over Survivors eating Doritos and Jack Bauer driving his Ford on the car company's favorite station FOX. A study last year discovered that nearly 11 percent of all network minutes include a branded reference and the Philly Inquirer recently started carrying a Citizens Bank-sponsored column. Last month, a Dallas radio station decided to do one better. It pulled ads altogether, replacing them with sponsored segments and product-plugged banter:

"You know, the best way to get down to Austin for South by Southwest is Southwest Airlines. They have tons of flights. It's the way I travel."

Yes, this so-called "product integration" is all the rage. But by replacing 15 minutes of commercial airtime with two minutes of branded chat, the Clear Channel station, KZPS, did more than prove that what works for American Idol can work for radio. It also paraded its announcement as a consumer victory. They claimed their new format both cut down on commercial clutter and marked a return to the golden years of American radio.

"In a sense, we're recapturing the early days of FM," said programmer Duane Doherty, "when your jock was a trusted guide through what was new and important."

Never mind, for a minute, the use of the terms "trusted" and "important." Doherty has a point. Because direct advertising was not allowed, early radio was always brought to us by our favorite corporate sponsor. Amos and Andy made Pepsodent toothpaste a household name, and the first TV shows followed the model with Kraft Hours and Camel Newsreels. But let's not confuse nostalgia for progress. Just because sponsored programming is in some sense a return of an old formula doesn't mean it's unworthy of scrutiny.

I'll be honest: I hesitate here. To continue this line of reasoning, to champion the separation of branding and broadcasting feels equally idealistic and hopeless. Product integration -- a marketing euphemism that oddly equates advertising techniques with schools in Little Rock -- is already too far gone. Most of our sporting venues are now named after beers and banks, and the trend is spreading to schools. News shows' health segments are often bookended by medicinal brand logos, and that Philly newspaper column is most likely just the first. If we are talking radio, on-air personalities have been voicing over car insurance and weight loss plans for years. As evidenced by last year's study of record companies and radio, even the content of most commercial airtime is bought. How do you argue with ads being inserted into commercial programming?

Plus, it's not like Ryan Seacrest is any Edward Murrow. Or that media consumers are naive victims. Most people tuning into FOX generally do so with the understanding that what they are watching a certain point of view. And if the stars of their prime time dramas on that same station all happen to drive the same car make, what real harm is done? We always, after all, have the choice not to watch. Our decision not to opt out of commercial media can be understood as an implicit acceptance of whatever advertising is embedded within.

In response, the standard social critique against product integration -- that ad creep feeds a culture of consumption, that it compromises artistic freedom and erodes consumer choice -- can seem vague and, considering much of this integrated advertising looks a lot like it did in the '50s, ironically old-fashioned. To argue against other product placement feels like fighting back the climate crisis tide. It feels like preaching abstinence to a couple already in the act.