2008 Woodie Awards
Volkswagen propaganda slants public opinion
Lance Lauda
Issue date: 9/4/08 Section: Editorial
Following an intense and competitive courting process and months of hush hush meetings, Fraulein Volkswagen proved she was no match for Chattanooga's southern charm.
On July 15, news of Chattanooga's marriage to the German automotive superpower hit the front page of every media outlet in the city.
A recent edition of Newsweek magazine compared Chattanooga's reaction to the news to the second coming of Christ.
Love-letters appeared up and down 4th Street, plastered to the side of The Chattanooga Times Free Press building and written on chalkboards at mom and pop shops across the county.
Conversations were peppered with the news of the automotive superpower coming to town, and everyone was ecstatic.
The news was inescapable then, and now nearly two months later, it is still inescapable.
There came a point where the welcoming campaign overstayed its own welcome and transformed into something else.
It became propaganda.
In 1927, Edward Bernays, often considered the father of the field of public relations, defined modern propaganda as a consistent, enduring effort to create or shape events in order to influence the relations of the public to an enterprise, idea or group.
According to Bernays, propaganda is essential to our present social organization because public approval is essential to any large undertaking, whether that be backing war, peace, or a car company driving into town at the expense of Tennessee tax-payers.
Personally, I didn't need the government to tell me Volkswagen is a great company. If you were to judge my response to Volkswagen before the pandemonium struck Chattanooga, you would have found that I had a favorable outlook on the company.
I have many great memories of Volkswagen, in fact.
Does Pavlov ring a bell? If so, then you'll understand what I mean when I say I grew up conditioned to punch innocent passengers at the sight of a "Punch-bug." I love that game.
On July 15, news of Chattanooga's marriage to the German automotive superpower hit the front page of every media outlet in the city.
A recent edition of Newsweek magazine compared Chattanooga's reaction to the news to the second coming of Christ.
Love-letters appeared up and down 4th Street, plastered to the side of The Chattanooga Times Free Press building and written on chalkboards at mom and pop shops across the county.
Conversations were peppered with the news of the automotive superpower coming to town, and everyone was ecstatic.
The news was inescapable then, and now nearly two months later, it is still inescapable.
There came a point where the welcoming campaign overstayed its own welcome and transformed into something else.
It became propaganda.
In 1927, Edward Bernays, often considered the father of the field of public relations, defined modern propaganda as a consistent, enduring effort to create or shape events in order to influence the relations of the public to an enterprise, idea or group.
According to Bernays, propaganda is essential to our present social organization because public approval is essential to any large undertaking, whether that be backing war, peace, or a car company driving into town at the expense of Tennessee tax-payers.
Personally, I didn't need the government to tell me Volkswagen is a great company. If you were to judge my response to Volkswagen before the pandemonium struck Chattanooga, you would have found that I had a favorable outlook on the company.
I have many great memories of Volkswagen, in fact.
Does Pavlov ring a bell? If so, then you'll understand what I mean when I say I grew up conditioned to punch innocent passengers at the sight of a "Punch-bug." I love that game.
