Why Does South African Advertising Punch Above Its Weight?

So here we sit at the far tip of Africa.

A continent’s length away from the sophistication of Europe.

An ocean’s width (and then some) from the might of the USA.

Below us, there’s nothing but sea and ice.

Our advertising industry, by every measure – people, budgets, resources – is a fraction of the size of the established powerhouses of Western Europe, North America and the Far East.

And yet in June, at the 2014 Cannes Lions Festival, us Saffers headed for home with our luggage swelled by 16 Bronze Lions, 6 Silver Lions, 3 Gold Lions and a Grand Prix.

Why?

Because we just don’t know any better.

We’re naïve, idealistic and just plain dumb enough to still believe that advertising actually matters, that great creative ideas are the most powerful weapon in a marketer’s arsenal, and that really great ideas can change the world.

If advertising were a national sport, we’d play it in the true South African way – full on, heart over head, no compromise, believing that if you’re gonna win, do it in style, and if you’re gonna lose, go down fighting. 

Occasionally, like our beloved national sporting teams, we make stupid mistakes. But we do it because we believe, as the old adage goes, that taking no risks is the biggest risk of all. And besides, where’s the fun in that?

We still (again, probably dumbly) believe that this is a business we’re blessed to have a career in – one that’s frustrating, aggravating, often infuriating, but never, ever dull.

We believe that advertising (the work, the job, the industry, the environment) has no business being boring.

That it’s ok to wear your “cover me in chocolate & feed me to the lesbians” t-shirt to a client meeting.

To live on a diet of Red Bull, coffee, pizza and cigarettes for 24-hour working days on end, because at the end of it there might – might – be something magical.

Simply put, we believe.

From 2010 to 2012, I lived and worked in Europe.

It was a great adventure, but I wasn’t happy in my job.

It took me two years to realise why – they’d stopped fighting.

Stopped battling the bullshit.

Stopped believing.

It was just a job.

Basically, they’d gotten too clever to care.

And once I realised that, I couldn’t wait to get back to the land of dumb.

Over two years later, I believe like never before. And I’ll never work anywhere else in the world.

Why would I?

I’m a dumb Irish-born Saffer (so double-dumb) surrounded by other beautiful dumbasses who care, who fight the good fight and who keep the flag flying. 

I’m home.

So why do we punch above our weight?

Like I said, we’re too dumb to know any better.

And to paraphrase the famous Apple Ad – 

Here’s to the dumb ones.

I, for one, wouldn’t have it any other way.