Greenpeace occupies part of a big building on Ottho Heldringstraat that looks and feels like a 1970s technical college. The blond woman behind the reception desk greets me, then informs me of the location of the smoke room, just in case. Three others will mention the smoke room during the next twenty minutes. Environmentalists, sure, but this is Old Europe.
On the second floor, an assortment of desks are clustered together as if in a newsroom. The workers are young and ethnically diverse—Indian, African, Dutch, Japanese. Beyond the newsroom lies a walled-in conference space where four people wait patiently. They are Greenpeace International’s senior media and communications team. Among them is a tall Canadian expatriate named Tony, who came to Greenpeace from Vancouver and now heads up the research department.
I begin by telling them that their brand is tired—a twentieth-century trademark in need of a twenty-first-century makeover. I want them to turn the central notion of No Logo on its head by adopting capitalist marketing without the empty consumerism. “Naomi Klein is dead wrong,” I declare. “Brands are here for good and Greenpeace must compete with them. Greenpeace is a brand and it most certainly is a logo too. And that is okay.” I pause. “It’s a...lifestyle identity for people who want to save the planet.”
I list the requirements for the transformation: a new logo, a new tagline, a new target demographic (eighteen- to thirty-four-year-olds), synergies with other ngos. “When people think of you, they think of stunts. They think of unfurling banners and trailing whaling ships,” I say. “We need to show people that Greenpeace gets results.” I’m basing the last point on an informal poll I conducted before leaving Canada. I asked a group of smart, well-educated friends to list Greenpeace’s accomplishments. No one could cite any.
As we talk, it becomes clear that there are differences over tactics within the organization. “From what I can tell,” I say, “Europeans don’t have the patience for the consumer-driven market solutions that Americans respond to, like energy-efficient light bulbs.” Everyone nods. “But America post-9/11 gets freaked out by action that is too confrontational. They use ‘eco-terrorists’ to describe [activists].” This time, only Tony nods.
I attempt to break the awkwardness by detailing a commercial I’ve devised, something viral for the web. The ad opens with a low shot of water flowing out toward the horizon. From outside the frame comes the sound of an approaching motor. A Greenpeace speedboat flies by, ablaze with the rainbow logo. The person driving seems to be going somewhere. Where? To where the planet needs saving, that’s where. As the boat exits the frame, a list of Greenpeace’s accomplishments fades in and out. Cue the upbeat music and these words:
People Protecting the Planet. Since 1971.
The three espressos I’ve downed are kicking in now. I outline a new website divided into clever navigational headings such as Land, Sea, and Air. There should be a section for podcasts, I say, another for GreenpeaceTV that will include video reports from the front lines, and?—the pièce de résistance?—?one for Greenpeace Gear. “If there’s one thing young people like,” I explain breathlessly, “it’s wearing their affiliation. Look at peta and Make Poverty History. They’ve got bracelets, T-shirts—all kinds of stuff. They’re marketing masters!”
My presentation is over. A few smiles emerge, the first from my compatriot Tony. I wait while the group goes outside to chat. When they return, they tell me they’re considering me for the position of Chief Media Officer. Would I be interested in doing my presentation again for someone else?
